


Into the Void

by thatstarlitsky



Series: Beneath an Infinite Sky [3]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Civillian Seonghwa, Cop Mingi, Crimes & Criminals, Established Relationship, Ex-Pirate Hongjoong, Guns, M/M, Martian Police Force, Minor Character Death, San is mentioned, Space Pirates, yunho is mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 13:46:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22939795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatstarlitsky/pseuds/thatstarlitsky
Summary: Six years ago, Hongjoong realized he had something worth living for – something worth escaping his chaotic, desperado life as a pirate. Determined to put his past behind him, he gave himself over to authorities, leaving behind the people he knew, and the ones who had raised him.Now, he is contacted by the very same men he turned himself in to and asked a favour – to infiltrate the Ratway; the underground pirate’s lair responsible for the deaths of six Martian police officers mere days prior. But the Ratway’s influence extends far beyond Hongjoong’s memory, and what was once familiar territory has become a minefield of enemies, and a sickening reminder that he will never truly escape his past.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Series: Beneath an Infinite Sky [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1584877
Comments: 65
Kudos: 119





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **TRIGGER WARNINGS AHEAD** This one’s going to be ugly.
> 
> For this part, you need to have read Eyes Like Stars and Shifting Tides (Parts 1 and 2 of this series). Eyes Like Stars offers some insights into Hongjoong and Seonghwa's relationship, and Shifting Tides directly connects with this one.
> 
> This part will be presented in 5 chapters. I will update weekly.

Mars was cloudy that night; at least that’s what the Martians would say. Hongjoong had other words for it; smoggy, dusty, and dull. There were no true clouds on Mars – there wasn’t enough water vapour.

But, for the sake of the planet he now lived on, he could say the weather was _cloudy_. That’s all it ever was. It wasn’t the complete sun-blocking darkness of a dust storm, or the crimson misery of the air for days afterwards, but it was still cloudy. On the rare days the sky was completely clear, not even the thick glass of the Marineris Dome blocked the light of the stars. But tonight, he couldn’t see anything brighter than the streaks of light over at Port Aries where ships came in for landings.

The clock hanging on the wall chimed one in the morning. Hongjoong jumped and winced, massaging his thigh where months before he’d taken shrapnel to the leg. While the muscle had been surgically repaired, and weeks of physiotherapy on board Martian naval ships at half-G had helped strengthen it, it still ached when he overused it. Tonight, it was throbbing, making it difficult to sleep. He’d tossed and turned for hours before giving up and leaving Seonghwa to sleep. He couldn’t stand the thought of waking him up with all of his fidgeting – not when his fiancé had come home exhausted after a fourteen-hour shift at the hospital.

Hongjoong gave up on the window and collapsed onto the couch instead. The gel hugged his body in a way that reminded him of the crash couches on the Nautilus. The sensation was nostalgic, yet also gave him a disturbing sense of vertigo – like at any moment the gravity beneath him could vanish or triple at any moment. He kept his eyes on the ceiling and tried not to dwell on it.

And yet, Hongjoong’s thoughts drifted skyward – back to when muscle problems came from atrophy rather than overuse; back to when some ships flew without gravity because the crew’s bodies had forgotten what it was like to carry its own weight; back to the time when he himself felt the disturbing jolt of dizziness when his heart realized it had to pump twice as hard to get blood to his brain. He had grown up in low-G, and it would be a lie to say he wasn’t paying for it in adulthood. It had taken six years of heavy military training in Martian gravity to be able to stay on his feet longer than a few hours. Even now, Hongjoong struggled when he exerted himself too much. His bones couldn’t handle the constant pull of gravity. If Seonghwa and his ability to spot an illness before it started had noticed, he had yet to say anything about it. But Hongjoong hadn’t missed the ever-refilling bottle of calcium supplements in the cupboard, and the uncanny way they would appear in his military bag before each deployment. Seonghwa just _knew_. He understood, and never pressed. Hongjoong was grateful for it, but also unsure. There was a fear that always gripped him that Seonghwa was afraid to know more. He may have asked about every scar on his body, but he had yet to ask for the rest.

Hongjoong began to drift off close to two in the morning. His soupy thoughts were a blur of static he was happy to descend into. The throbbing in his thigh became an afterthought, and Hongjoong floated, for the briefest of minutes, through the void of half-sleep.

He was awoken by the light in the kitchen coming on with explosive brightness. Seonghwa stumbled away from the switch, a hand pressed to his forehead as he reached for the kettle.

Now alert, Hongjoong scrambled off the couch. “What happened?”

Seonghwa jumped slightly, but turned to face him. Sweat coated his brow, and his dark bangs were knotted over his forehead. Hongjoong knew that look.

“Nightmare?” He asked, and Seonghwa nodded.

Hongjoong reached for him and smoothed the damp bangs from his forehead. He dried the sweat with the wrist of his sweater. Seonghwa closed his eyes and sighed, his expression relaxing beneath Hongjoong’s fingers. He massaged Seonghwa’s temples, cheeks, and down his neck and shoulders before he threaded his fingers into the hair at the back of his head. Seonghwa sighed and leaned forward to rest his head on Hongjoong’s shoulder. Behind him, the kettle began to hiss.

“What’s keeping you up?” Seonghwa asked, his voice still exhausted.

“Just couldn’t sleep,” Hongjoong replied.

Seonghwa laughed breathily. “Liar,” he accused.

Hongjoong let out a defeated sigh. “My leg hurts.”

“Did you take anything?”

“Yeah; it didn’t really help.”

Seonghwa grimaced. Hongjoong lightly pinched his cheek to erase the expression.

“It’s not that bad,” he insisted. “I just can’t lie on my right side; and I don’t sleep well on my left.”

“Still...You’re hurt badly enough that it’s affecting your life. You need to say something.” Always persistent; and always looking for an excuse to keep Hongjoong from being deployed again.

“The General already knows,” Hongjoong replied. “It won’t change anything. Soldiers get hurt all the time on duty.”

“Soldiers get caught on disintegrating starships often, do they?” Seonghwa raised an eyebrow.

Hongjoong flushed and shook his head. _That’s really more of a ‘me’ problem,_ he resisted the urge to say.

“Then,” Seonghwa sharply tapped his chest with a single finger. “Say something to the General. Get a _proper_ medical checkup. I don’t want you going anywhere in four months if you’re not fit for duty.”

“I’m scheduled for one a few weeks before I’m supposed to be deployed,” Hongjoong replied. “They’ll decide then.”

Seonghwa sighed heavily and threw up his hands. His long fingers ran through his already rumpled hair, making it worse. Hongjoong grabbed his hands and pulled them to his lips to kiss his knuckles.

“Listen...try not to worry, okay?” Small words, Hongjoong knew, but they were all he had.

“I almost lost you for good,” Seonghwa frowned. “All because of that deal you made.”

“I know,” Hongjoong pulled him close and kissed his forehead. “But you didn’t – and you’re right. That doesn’t usually happen on military ships. I just...go far away for awhile.”

Seonghwa sighed again, his head bowing. His eyes were closed, and his lip was pulled between his teeth. Hongjoong brushed his thumbs along his cheeks, his chest aching. Not knowing what Seonghwa was thinking; what he was feeling...Hongjoong wished he could read minds, just so he could offer the right words.

He knew it was hard – it was hard on both of them. Back when he’d been a pirate, Hongjoong left for months at a time and Seonghwa never knew when he’d come back, or even if he would. He thought it would be easier on a military clock, where predictable deployments made it so he could await his return with certainty. Military life was safer than piracy, that much Hongjoong had thought. But after the shuttle attack, he wasn’t so sure. The memory left a sour taste in his mouth, and the screams of the dying still echoed in his ears on quiet nights like this one.

He’d gotten lucky. That was all it ever was.

The whistle of the kettle drew them out of their thoughts. Seonghwa took a breath and turned away. He pulled two mugs down from the cupboard. Hongjoong slid his arms around his waist from behind and rested his chin on his shoulder to watch him prepare the tea with practiced efficiency. Hongjoong watched his hands – his beautiful, long fingered hands that were becoming aged with constant hand washing at work. Hongjoong stroked his thumbs over Seonghwa’s hips to keep himself from holding them while he handled the hot water.

Seonghwa shrugged him off and turned around to gently hand him a mug handle first. Hongjoong took it and followed him back towards the couch. They squashed themselves into one corner of it and Hongjoong yanked the neatly folded blanket over their legs. Seonghwa wiggled until he was resting against him. Hongjoong slid an arm around his shoulders and rested his cheek on the top of his head.

“It was the same dream as always,” Seonghwa eventually said, when their mugs were half empty and barely steaming. “But...this time you weren’t there.”

“Ah,” Hongjoong hummed.

“You were already dead.”

“..._Ah._”

Seonghwa let out a shaky breath. Hongjoong pressed a kiss to the top of his head. From the first night he’d spent with Seonghwa, Hongjoong knew all about the night terrors that plagued him. It had taken a few persuasions to get Seonghwa to open up, but it made the details no less chilling. As rain poured down from the dome that was meant to protect his city, Seonghwa was forced to watch everything he loved get swept away in the deluge before he himself would drown in the rising water. Rain didn’t exist on Mars, and though Hongjoong knew it was harmless, it was impossible to reassure someone who had never seen it. To a Martian living in heavily climate-controlled bubbles, rain was a symbol of something going horrifically wrong.

It didn’t take long for Hongjoong to spot the trends. At first, it had been triggered by exam periods. But now that he no longer had school, it came when the broadcasted news was troubling, or, like tonight, when his shift at the hospital had been difficult. Hongjoong knew the night terrors didn’t stop when he was away, and some nights he lied awake in his bunk on the military Dreadnaught, hoping beyond hope that Seonghwa wasn’t up like he was now, drinking chamomile tea while he tried to calm his shaking nerves. Alone. In an apartment that was too big for just one.

“I’m here,” he said.

“I know,” Seonghwa sighed. “I’m just...stressed. Things were bad at the hospital yesterday, but...you already knew that.”

“Yeah,” Hongjoong confirmed. “But you’re safe. I’m here.”

Seonghwa nodded slowly, pressing himself closer to his side. Hongjoong leaned away long enough to set his mug down on the table before he was bundling him in his arms. Seonghwa curled up against him and pulled his knees up over Hongjoong’s thigh. He was taller than Hongjoong, which made the position difficult, but they made it work.

Slowly, Seonghwa began to relax beneath Hongjoong’s touches. He ran his fingers through his hair, gently massaged the back of his neck, and pressed small, lingering kisses to the top of his head. As the clock on the wall chimed three in the morning, Hongjoong knew he’d fallen asleep again. He smiled, and gently took the mug from between his limp fingers to set aside in a place that wouldn’t spill. He pulled the blanket further up his body and tucked it around his shoulders and hips.

Seonghwa had always been beautiful in sleep. Even now, when age was starting to touch his features, he was beautiful. Hongjoong watched him silently, running a thumb over his cheek and watching his eyelashes flutter. He never wanted to stop touching him – not for a single second. Time was rare and precious, and Hongjoong wanted to hold onto each moment – each little detail until it was pressed into his memory forever. He would stay awake all night if it meant he could hold Seonghwa in his arms, just like this, and never let go.

Yet, Hongjoong found sleep as the clock chimed four. When he woke again, it was excruciatingly slowly. The thin, Martian sun leaked through the window and over their slouched bodies. Next to him, Seonghwa was stirring beneath his arms.

Seonghwa made a muffled sound as he lifted his head, and stretched his legs out. Hongjoong couldn’t help but smile when he heard his joints pop and crack.

“Don’t laugh; you’re an old man too,” Seonghwa chided, and Hongjoong _really_ laughed that time.

“Nope, I’m still young,” Hongjoong argued.

“Yeah?” Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, and Hongjoong took it as a challenge.

He grinned, and grabbed Seonghwa’s wrists. Though his own stiff knees – and frustratingly, his thigh – protested the motion, he straddled Seonghwa’s lap and pressed him back against the couch. Seonghwa’s pale cheeks flushed pink, and he nervously licked his lips.

“Can an old man do this?” Hongjoong asked, leaning over him.

“N-No,” Seonghwa stammered. His eyes ran down to Hongjoong’s lips.

“No?” Hongjoong grinned, waiting for him to repeat it.

“No,” Seonghwa breathed.

Hongjoong wasted little time leaning down to kiss him. Seonghwa’s warm lips, still slightly dry from sleep but no less wonderful, parted beneath his own. He kept just enough space between them that Seonghwa’s organic gasps slowly began to fill the room. Hongjoong licked over his lips, and Seonghwa’s wrists strained against his hands. A soft whine fell like a sweet melody over his ears.

Hongjoong ghosted soft kisses down Seonghwa’s cheek; down to his chin. His head fell back, and his Adam’s apple bobbed just before Hongjoong’s tongue flicked across it. The soft vibrations of his throat accompanied his gasps, and Hongjoong felt more than he saw the way Seonghwa finally gave himself over to the feeling. His wrists stopped straining as he slumped into the couch. Hongjoong smiled against his throat and Seonghwa shivered in response.

Seonghwa’s pale neck was flawless; Hongjoong kissed over his pulse point. He licked and nibbled until Seonghwa was squirming beneath him and his breathy whimpers and languid moans filled the room. Hongjoong longed to mark it just as he used to, but Seonghwa’s job in public service demanded a less _promiscuous_ appearance.

“I’ll put on makeup tomorrow,” Seonghwa gasped when Hongjoong’s teeth touched the most sensitive part of his neck. “Please—”

Hongjoong didn’t hesitate to bite him. Seonghwa’s back arched, and his moan sounded like a siren’s song. He gasped his name; squirmed and strained, and Hongjoong didn’t let up. He laid enough marks over Seonghwa’s neck and shoulder that it would be more than obvious he belonged to someone. Hongjoong licked over each one, making sure Seonghwa felt them all. _Mine,_ the gesture said, and Seonghwa moaned weakly.

“It’s not even eight...” Seonghwa gasped, though he didn’t sound disappointed. “You’re the worst...”

“You love me,” Hongjoong teased and stroked his thumbs over Seonghwa’s wrists. He felt his rapid pulse beneath the veins.

“Debatable,” Seonghwa argued.

“Sounds like someone needs to loosen up a little more.”

“_Try me_,” he challenged.

“Gladly.”

Hongjoong shifted his grip. His hands were small, but if he pinned Seonghwa’s wrists one over the other, he could hold them both with a single hand. He pressed them both over his head and mouthed over the bruises on his fiancé’s neck. His free hand lifted the hem of Seonghwa’s shirt and found his nipples, already pert from the cool air of the house. Seonghwa groaned as Hongjoong gently twisted it between his finger and thumb. His back curved in a perfect arch in search of his touch.

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa gasped and strained at his wrists again. Hongjoong pressed him down more firmly. The sound he made was enthralling. He licked at Seonghwa’s throat a few more times before he was shifting to catch his lips once more. Seonghwa’s hot breath along his tongue sent a shiver down his spine.

Hongjoong trailed his fingertips down his body and traced familiar curves and lines. Seonghwa trembled beneath him and leaned into his touch. His hand snuck beneath the waistband of his pyjamas. Slowly, he traced a single finger up Seonghwa’s stiff length with just enough pressure to make him squirm.

“Mmph—” Seonghwa gasped into his mouth. With Hongjoong’s weight on his thighs, he couldn’t press into the sensation of fingers tracing his length. He shuddered once more and pulled his lips away to breathe. Hongjoong flashed him a wicked grin and licked over his parted lips.

With his thumb, he rubbed slow circles into the head of Seonghwa’s length. Little by little, Hongjoong watched hungrily as he came undone beneath his hands. Seonghwa’s eyelashes fluttered, and his crimson lips gleamed temptingly, but Hongjoong did nothing more than nip them gently. Seonghwa’s whimpers slowly turned to breathless moans.

“Hong—Hongjoong—” Seonghwa’s voice pitched high, and he pulled at his wrists once more.

Hongjoong hummed, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth before circling his thumb exactly where Seonghwa was most sensitive. He collapsed beneath him. Warm, sticky fluid coated Hongjoong’s hand, and Seonghwa’s chest heaved with his moans. Hongjoong worked him through it with firm strokes along his length. He looked so beautiful blissed out with his head thrown back. Hongjoong released his wrists and gently stroked his cheek. Seonghwa gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him down for a kiss.

“I want more of this,” Seonghwa breathed against his mouth. “But I don’t want you straining your leg.”

“Don’t worry about my leg,” Hongjoong insisted. “We can go into orbit again later.”

“You know that won’t do you any good.”

Hongjoong wanted to protest, but he already knew Seonghwa was right.

“Let me take care of you,” Seonghwa breathed, pressing a few, tender kisses against his cheek. Hongjoong’s breath caught when Seonghwa’s hand slid into his pants. Long, warm fingers wrapped around him, and Hongjoong realized just how sensitive he’d become without noticing.

“Ah...” Hongjoong buried his face into Seonghwa’s shoulder, his body shuddering involuntarily as the hand slid over him. The rough friction of his palm only added to the pleasure. His fingers curled against the back of Seonghwa’s neck.

Hongjoong wouldn’t consider himself vocal, but Seonghwa had an uncanny way of pulling sounds out of him. He moaned softly as his neck was peppered with soft, slow kisses. While Hongjoong’s style was to tease before letting lose, Seonghwa liked taking things slow, but firm. Somehow, it made his head spin more than simple quick and dirty strokes of his hand. Heat built in his stomach; the flames tended by careful fingers before it blazed white hot. Hongjoong shuddered and gasped as his release slipped out of him. Seonghwa pressed a few more kisses to his cheek before finding his lips once more.

_I love you_, the slow movements said. Hongjoong sighed softly and breathed the air that they were sharing.

“We should clean up and get breakfast ready,” Seonghwa said softly and pressed a few more soft pecks against his lips.

“One more minute,” Hongjoong murmured. He held Seonghwa’s cheeks between his hands and kissed his forehead; his nose; his chin and finally his lips until his fiancé was laughing.

“Alright, that was your minute,” Seonghwa insisted, but gave him a handful more before he was pushing him onto his feet. “Now get to the shower.”

“Come with me...?” Hongjoong asked, reaching for his hand.

“Shower _alone_,” Seonghwa laughed, rising to his feet and pushing him towards the bathroom. “I know your tricks.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t still fall for them,” Hongjoong said.

Seonghwa rolled his eyes and stepped past him. Hongjoong caught him by the back of the shirt and pulled him back against his chest.

“Last one,” he promised, and pressed a final, lingering kiss to his lips.

Seonghwa’s cheeks flushed pink. “Go shower,” he repeated without an ounce of irritation in his voice.

“Don’t miss me too much,” Hongjoong winked and headed for the bathroom.

It was wonderful; domestic and normal. The life he’d put together for himself was worth it. He felt as though he could name a thousand things he was thankful for, and a thousand things he was happy to leave behind. Seonghwa made it easier. He was a lighthouse on a stormy cliff; the angel on his shoulder; the sunrise blossoming over the horizon. Hongjoong made sure to jot those thoughts down in a note in his hand terminal before stepping into the shower. He might’ve had months, maybe years until their official marriage, but he would be damned if he lost a single, meaningful word he could slip into his vows.

Seonghwa was dressed in his day clothes when Hongjoong came out. He was carefully grilling sliced mushrooms and peppers to slip into a large cheese omelette cooking in another pan. He’d probably cleaned himself off in their bedroom ensuite before getting dressed. Hongjoong hugged him from behind and kissed his cheek before reaching for the plates. By the time he was finished setting the table, Seonghwa was splitting the omelette in half. Hongjoong set their daily pot of tea in the middle of the table and poured it into two cups.

It had been a few days since they’d been able to enjoy breakfast together. Hongjoong made sure to hum in satisfaction at the first bite of the omelette, just to make Seonghwa smile. He loved to be praised for his cooking, and Hongjoong never failed to deliver a few at every meal.

They used their morning to catch up on a drama they hadn’t been able to enjoy with Seonghwa so busy. Seonghwa’s foot was wrapped around his ankle, just as it always was. Occasionally, like now, when the events in the show became a little too tense for his liking, Seonghwa would run his toe up and down the back of Hongjoong’s leg for comfort. Hongjoong let him do it. The gesture gave him comfort as well.

They were finishing off the last of the tea when the security door chime rang through the apartment. Confused, Hongjoong looked towards the speaker. Seonghwa mirrored his movement next to him, a frown on his face. He stood up and walked to the entrance display to answer it. Hongjoong watched him freeze with his hand over the lit-up panel. Then, he pressed the _connect_ button.

“Why are you here?” He asked. Hongjoong shot to his feet, immediately concerned.

“Park Seonghwa? We’re here to see Kim Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong recognized the voice, and his knees locked in the center of the living room.

Seonghwa frowned and looked towards him before turning back to the display. “What do you need him for?”

“We will not disclose that here. We just want to talk.”

Hongjoong seriously doubted that. But he gestured for Seonghwa to let them in and nodded his head. Nothing good would come out of denying them. He folded his arms over his chest. He thought of Nessie sitting in the hangar in Port Aries and wished he could fly away with her.

Seonghwa waited by the lift, punching in the permissions to allow the visitors into the apartment. When the doors slid open, he stood defensively between them and Hongjoong. A bubble of warmth filled his stomach. Seonghwa wasn’t even hesitating to believe that Hongjoong had done nothing wrong.

The Marineris Chief of Police, Han Seungwoo, and a man Hongjoong didn’t know stepped into the apartment. Seonghwa was tapping his foot in agitation, and Hongjoong came up behind him to hold onto his hips to steady him. He shot Hongjoong a disgruntled expression, but stopped fidgeting.

“Why are you here?” Hongjoong asked, letting go of Seonghwa’s hips in favour of crossing his arms over his chest. “We had an agreement – my record is clean. I haven’t violated my terms.”

“We’re not here to arrest you,” Chief Han said. “But we need to take you to the station.”

“That makes no sense,” Seonghwa interjected. “You’re not arresting him but you’re taking him in?”

“I cannot give you the details here – we must speak in private. The station is the safest place to do so,” Chief Han explained.

Hongjoong didn’t like this. He _really_ didn’t like this.

“_If_,” Hongjoong emphasised, “I come with you, I want your word that I will _not_ be held accountable for anything. And I want to come home when you’re done talking with me.”

“It’ll be arranged,” Chief Han promised.

Seonghwa turned back towards him. His eyes were wide, and his hands were shaking. It was comparable to the fear he’d seen in his fiancé’s eyes when he’d awoken from his nightmare the night before.

Hongjoong took Seonghwa’s hands in his. He pulled them both to his lips and pressed kisses to his knuckles. He didn’t care that the eyes of the Chief of Police and an unfamiliar officer were on them. He’d made a promise, and the shiny, silver ring with a few, small diamonds pressed into the band was proof of that. Hongjoong ran his thumb over it.

“It’ll be okay, little bird. I’ll come back home,” he said.

Seonghwa smiled sadly and gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be waiting.”

Hongjoong leaned up to press a kiss to Seonghwa’s lips. He hesitated only a moment before letting go of him and turning towards Chief Han.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said, jamming his finger into the lift button. The doors swung open.

Hongjoong smiled reassuringly at Seonghwa just before the doors closed. But when his fiancé slipped out of sight, the smile fell, the warmth of the morning replaced with an icy rock at the pit of his stomach.

\--

Hongjoong had never wanted to come back to the Marineris Police Station.

The too-clean, linen scented air recyclers reminded him of the time he’d spent on lockdown. The smell brought him to his cold cell in the basement, where he’d been put under isolation. He was back on his thin mattress with his face buried in the barely stuffed pillow in a futile effort to muffle his sobs. He’d lost everything – his crew, his ship – and he wasn’t even allowed to see Seonghwa. He’d felt regret – endless, painful regret. He’d wondered how hard he would have to hit his head off of the concrete walls to end his life, but kept himself at bay with thoughts of the stars – and of Seonghwa. For him, he endured – and he didn’t dare look at death when he wasn’t being offered an end in the stars.

Hongjoong pulled himself back down with difficulty. He forced himself to breathe again. He imagined a straight line and the sound of a kettle whistling. The practiced image kept him calm, but turned his expression to solid stone.

Chief Han knocked on a door and pushed it open. Hongjoong followed him into the room. There were eleven people inside – men and women in full uniform – all seated around a long table. Hongjoong scanned them all, but only recognized Chief Kang Jinwoo. Hongjoong would never forget him for as long as he lived. The sight of him brought a bubble of anger to his chest that he could not stifle. He met the Noctis Police Chief’s glare with a solid, unwavering stare. This was the man who had pushed for his execution, even after he had upheld his end of the bargain.

Hongjoong sat in the chair he was motioned to. He was right across from Chief Kang, giving him ample opportunity to meet those challenging eyes – to show him that he could not be intimidated. He laid his hands in front of him and leaned forward.

“Since you’re here too, do _you_ want to explain why I’m here?” Hongjoong demanded. “I already gave my statements and told you everything I know.”

Chief Kang’s eyebrow twitched – his lone tell. It meant he was angry and Hongjoong needed to watch his back.

“Six police officers were killed investigating an area near Noctis Labyrinthus,” Chief Kang replied.

His stomach lurched. Only static remained where his calm thoughts had resided. He forced himself to maintain composure – he couldn’t slip up now.

Chief Kang’s lips had twisted into a grimace of a smile. He leaned over the table, mimicking his posture. “Now, you have some explaining to do, Kim Hongjoong.”

“I don’t have to explain anything,” Hongjoong argued. “I _told_ you, I gave you everything I knew. I left the life – I haven’t violated my terms. Hell, you can check my ship’s log, and my ID card – I haven’t left Marineris unless I was going into orbit, and I haven’t left the planet unless I was on duty.”

“Then _explain_ why I lost six officers near Labyrinthus – or are you still trying to protect your friends?” Chief Kang hissed.

Hongjoong’s composure cracked. His fingers curled into fists on the table. “They are _not_ my friends.” _Not anymore,_ he thought faintly.

“Then, you shouldn’t have a problem explaining this,” Chief Kang smiled coldly over his folded hands. Hongjoong took a slow breath and tried to relax his hands.

“Chief Kang, calm yourself,” Chief Han said, laying a hand on Hongjoong’s shoulder. “His records _do_ indicate he has not left the planet outside of deployment. He is innocent, and we did not bring him here to incriminate him.”

Chief Kang’s jaw worked. Hongjoong maintained his glare for a moment before he looked away to stare at a point on the wall. It didn’t mean he was giving up – it meant he was being the better man and ending the fight before it grew worse. Chief Kang could destroy the paradise he’d built for himself with a single word. Hongjoong hated how helpless he’d become; how _little_ he could do when he actually had something to lose.

Chief Han nodded his head when the hostilities fell to a low simmer and gestured to the officer next to him. “Detective Park, please get the cockpit recorder ready.”

Detective Park nodded his _yes, sir_ and dug a thin data chip from his pocket. Hongjoong recognized him as the other man who had come to collect him from his apartment. He slid it into a slot at the center of the table. Instantly, a hologram displayed the Martian landscape with a hill in the distance. Hongjoong didn’t recognize it.

“This was taken from the cockpit of the only surviving police cruiser on the scene,” Chief Han said, explaining what he would see before he saw it. “On board was Officer Song Mingi and Choi San, the witness who led us to this place. I will play it for you now.”

The hologram began to move. The cockpit recorder picked up not only the exterior of the cruiser, but the audio between the deployed squadron. Nothing was highlighted, but Hongjoong’s quick eyes spotted the plume of dust on the Martian landscape just as the cruiser fell to a full stop.

_“I saw them,”_ A man said. His voice had the solid intonation that told Hongjoong he was inside the cockpit._ “They’re at eleven o’clock—they just went behind that ridge.”_

_“What?”_

_“I don’t see...”_

_“Put your sensors up – he’s right!”_

_“Nothing’s on RADAR...”_

_“They don’t show up on RADAR!” _A new voice, this one also inside the cockpit, shouted in a voice shrill enough that Hongjoong felt it in his ears.

_“Mr. Choi, do not shout,” _a woman scolded, her voice tinny.

_“I saw them. I definitely saw them.”_

_“Why right now though? I’ve been out every day this week, and I haven’t seen a single—”_

The recording swung wildly. He heard a shout, and suddenly, the cruiser was blasting across the landscape – but not before Hongjoong caught sight of no less than seven speeders painted a dusty red on the cockpit’s screen. He saw the explosions – heard the shouts of the dying officers on the cockpit recorder. Hongjoong laid his hands in his lap to hide how white his knuckles had become.

At his right, a young police officer began to fidget. Hongjoong watched him long enough to take in the dark circles beneath his eyes, and the unkempt tangle of his hair. His badge – reading Officer Song Mingi – betrayed him. Hongjoong’s heart went out to him. Being forced to relive a traumatic experience mere days after it had happened and maintaining a professional composure wasn’t easy. The fact that he was expected to was downright cruel.

As the recording and the last of the railgun fire ended, Hongjoong knew he could’ve heard a pin drop. He pressed his thumbs together in his lap, his eyes focused on the table. The hologram vanished.

“I hope you can understand why we called you here,” Chief Han said, watching Hongjoong with a careful eye.

“You’re right,” Hongjoong replied. “It’s pirates. I’m assuming you were searching for the Ratway?”

“So, you _do_ know where it is!” Chief Kang half shouted, rising from his seat. “You’re a liar, and a cheater! _You cost six families their mothers and fathers!_”

Hongjoong stayed seated, but it was a near miss. Hongjoong had never been tall, and Martians had a tendency to easily clear him in height. One-third gravity built people long and skinny rather than short and broad.

“I am sorry for your loss,” Hongjoong replied – and he meant it – but his ice-cold delivery made Chief Kang scoff, and several officers in the room frowned. “But I had _nothing_ to do with it.”

“If you had _told_ us where this place was—”

“Chief Kang,” Hongjoong interrupted. “I do _not_ know where the Ratway’s surface entrances are. I made this clear from the beginning. I only used the hangar entrances in Port Aries – and I told you where they all were.”

“But you _knew_ they existed,” Chief Kang argued.

“Yes, I did,” Hongjoong replied. “But it’s impossible to know _all_ of them, or even where they are. There’s enough ways in and out of the Ratway that closing off the seven in Port Aries was more of an inconvenience than a setback. I _warned_ you there would be more – but I don’t know them all. I don’t think any pirate does.”

“But you’ve been there,” Chief Kang’s hands curled on the table. “You’ve _seen_ what was inside of it.”

“Yes, it’s the black market,” Hongjoong replied. “But I haven’t been there since I turned myself in.”

Chief Kang opened his mouth to say something more, but Chief Han cut him off with a wave of his hand.

“Enough. Hongjoong,” Chief Han turned towards him. “We need your help.”

“That’s all I know,” Hongjoong said, holding up his hands in a shrug.

“We need to get into the Ratway,” Chief Han went on, “and shut it down before anyone else gets killed. This is why we have been trying to find it.”

Hongjoong laughed, then stopped a second later. He shook his head. “Chief...the Ratway is big enough that even _I _don’t know every sector. If they even so much as spot a redjack, they kill. Why do you think you lost those officers? You got too close. You _found_ them, and they _know_ someone got away.”

“If we take them by surprise—”

Hongjoong held up a hand. “You’re assuming pirates are stupid. They are _not_ stupid. Their survival depends on dodging the law, hiding in plain sight, and killing anyone who even _looks_ like a threat. It’s not as easy as walking over, knocking on the door, and waving a search warrant. They’ll just pit you.”

Twice, Hongjoong mentally noted. That was the second slip into pirate slang since he’d sat down. The words tasted sour on his tongue, yet the disturbing familiarity of them left his toes curling.

“Then what do you suggest?” Chief Han asked.

Hongjoong paused, wondering if he was serious. “I don’t know.”

“Humour me,” Chief Han folded his arms over his chest.

“That depends on what you want to do,” Hongjoong replied.

“We need to cut them off and shut down the entrances.”

Hongjoong let out a heavy breath. “If you want to find them, you need to get inside. There’s going to be more than one, and they’re going to be spread out. They’ll be underground too, so you can’t just run a satellite scan and spot them. My guess...they’re using natural caves that are big enough to fit a speeder down, but small enough to be easily concealed.”

“If we approached the one at Labyrinthus, how would we get inside?” Chief Han asked.

“You’re serious?” Hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “That’s a suicide mission. You’d never get inside. They would’ve doubled sentries by now.”

“Can _you_ get in?”

Hongjoong froze. He thought back to the days where he simply landed his ship in one of the seven Port Aries airlocks and climbed down the staircase into the Ratway’s tunnels. He’d been a different man – a dangerous man. Hongjoong never wanted to go back there.

“No,” he replied. “If they know who ratted them out, I would be killed on sight. I’m not risking it. You can forget it.”

“It will be considered a service to Mars. We’ve already contacted General Eden,” Chief Han said. “He has deployed you. It is part of your promotion to protect Mars from pirates, or am I mistaken?”

“You aren’t,” Hongjoong confirmed. A knot formed in his stomach.

“Would you like me to play the recording?”

“Play it,” Hongjoong gestured.

Chief Han pulled the cockpit recording chip from the hologram’s display board. He pressed a new one into place and activated it.

General Eden’s face was suspended above him, serious and firm.

_“I, General Eden, hereby deploy Warrant Officer Kim Hongjoong to assist the Martian Police Department in neutralizing the pirate threat near Noctis Labyrinthus.”_

As the recording ended, Hongjoong grimaced. A stone settled into the pit of his stomach next to the knot. Not for the first time, he wondered if his conscription had been a way to put him in a constant line of fire – if it had been a subtle technique to get him killed under the excuse of being _on duty_ so they didn’t have to execute a man who had helped them. He’d sacrificed – shed blood for Mars – gave up time with his fiancé to serve in exchange for a peaceful life. It was never enough. Nobody wanted to allow him the peace of mind, or the freedom, he’d traded himself in for.

He rose to his feet and saluted.

“Warrant Officer Kim, reporting for duty.”


	2. Chapter 2

“What do you mean they deployed you?!”

Seonghwa’s voice was shrill – angry – and Hongjoong made no effort to calm him down. He had no words to say, and he was resisting the urge to tear the station apart himself.

He stood alone in one of the hallways. It had taken him requesting a bathroom break to sneak away to call Seonghwa. His hand terminal displayed a hologram of his fiancé back home. The pixelated, flickering image did nothing to hide the fact that Seonghwa’s eyes were tearing up.

“I swear to god, Hongjoong – I’m coming over there right now, and I’m _demanding_ they release you—”

“There’s nothing you can do, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong said softly. “It’s an order from the General.”

“The _General_—” Seonghwa grabbed his hair and pulled on it hard enough that Hongjoong winced. “The same General who knows about your injury?”

_Yes,_ Hongjoong thought and massaged his thigh. He was keeping his weight on his other leg, but the reminder of it made it ache all over again.

Seonghwa took his silence as an answer. “And _no medical check up_?”

Hongjoong shook his head. “They just sat me down, told me what was happening, and then told me General Eden had deployed me to help them.”

“And, _pray tell_,” Seonghwa only used such a phrase when he was positively livid – and it made Hongjoong smile, if only slightly. “What fool’s errand are they sending you on?”

“The most foolish one yet,” Hongjoong admitted. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to come home.”

“This is supposed to be _our time_,” Seonghwa said, and the devastation in his voice was enough that Hongjoong wanted to defect and hold him in his arms until the sky came down on his head.

“I know—stars, I know...” Hongjoong ran a hand down his face.

Chief Han stepped around the corner, spotting him at the end of the hallway. Hongjoong met his eyes and sighed, looking back down at the camera.

“I have to go. I just...wanted to tell you what was happening,” Hongjoong said softly.

“Come home,” Seonghwa begged, his voice cracking. “_Please_.”

“I will, as soon as I can.” Hongjoong said, then blew a kiss through the camera. “I love you, little bird. So much.”

Seonghwa nodded. “I love you too. _Please_ come home safe...”

“I will,” Hongjoong promised, but he wasn’t confident in it this time. He gently pressed the _disconnect _button and tried not to think of Seonghwa crying alone at home. There was nothing he could do. His chest ached as he walked over to Chief Han.

“We were wondering what was taking you so long,” Chief Han said.

“I wanted my one phone call,” Hongjoong said bluntly. “I might be denied my freedom of choice, but I’ll be damned if I don’t at least tell my fiancé I might not be coming home for awhile.”

“In life, we always have choices,” Chief Han said.

Hongjoong shot him a nasty look. “You’d be surprised, Chief.”

“Enlighten me.”

“I’d rather not waste my time.”

Chief Han raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Hongjoong hovered just behind him, his jaw clenched to keep the sudden influx of harsh words from spilling over his tongue. It must be nice, he thought, to believe in such an ideology.

The conference room was filled with muffled whispers when they returned. Hongjoong scanned the room, noting the dozen pairs of eyes that incriminated him, rather than looked upon him as an ally. The young officer – Song Mingi – was slowly turning a cup of coffee between his fingers and gazing into the dark depths. Hongjoong looked away and sat back down.

“So, you didn’t desert after all,” Chief Kang sneered.

Hongjoong promptly ignored him.

“Let’s start on the plan. Detective Park? The floor is yours.”

“Yes, sir,” Detective Park stood up. He inserted a new chip into the hologram display. A loosely detailed flowchart appeared, and Detective Park swiped over one section to bring it into focus.

“Our plan is to use the unfound entrance near Labyrinthus to gain entrance into the Ratway,” Detective park said, gesturing to where a tiny, false speeder effortlessly slipped beneath the ground and into a tube-like tunnel. “From there, a small team of officers will investigate the interior of the Ratway and locate the entrance tunnels from the inside.”

The display model of the Ratway was a single hallway with dozens of parallel branches extending out from it. Hongjoong had to squeeze his hands together to keep from shaking his head.

“Once we locate the exits, we mark the coordinates, and leave in the speeder we came in.” Detective Park swiped the last of the steps out of the way before he was pulling up a display of four hovercraft class speeders. “These are the speeders we have at our disposal. They are presently impounded, but the fees are overdue. We can take one of them out to Labyrinthus and use it to get inside. I recommend we use this one – an Equinox. It has the speed we need in case we need to escape quickly, and it seats six.”

Around the room, officers were nodding thoughtfully. Chief Han scratched his chin for a moment before nodding as well.

“This is acceptable to me,” Chief Han agreed. “As for the team, Detective Park, you will be leading the mission.”

“Yes, sir,” Detective Park nodded.

“Also going along, Warrant Officer Kim Hongjoong, as per his deployment, Officer Song Mingi, who has had experience dealing with the pirates...”

Hongjoong looked towards Mingi, who was gripping his mug a little too tightly. Hongjoong frowned, then rose to his feet to interrupt the recruitment.

“This isn’t going to do us any good, Chief,” Hongjoong said.

Eyes landed on him again. Detective Park’s lips thinned into an irritated line.

_Sorry, Detective, but your promotion is going to have to wait,_ Hongjoong thought. He reached forward and swiped away the image of the Equinox and exchanged it for a simple Charger. “_This_ is the kind of speeder pirates use. It’s mass produced, cheap, the parts are easy to find, and the least likely to be reported stolen. It seats four, but a smaller group of two or three will be better once we’re inside.

“And...the Ratway looks more like this,” Hongjoong swiped at the map, then twisted his fingers in the air to redraw it, alter it, and turn it into something completely nonsensical. The only thing he made sure of was to draw a central hub like the center of the most lopsided snowflake in the universe. A few eyes darted over the convoluted map; the rest were focused on him and the Chief as they waited for him to get interrupted.

“I am on this mission too,” Hongjoong said, letting the revolving image of the Ratway hover ominously over the table. “And I get it – I’m some pirate none of you care about. But I’ve been recruited to get you in – and out – alive, and I will do exactly that if you do what I say.”

“I don’t even want him going _down_ to the Ratway,” Chief Kang said angrily. “He’ll probably tell his pirate friends we’re coming to save his own skin.”

“I aided in shutting down seven airlocks in Port Aries,” Hongjoong growled. “They _hate_ me, Chief Kang. Given the choice, I wouldn’t help you _at all_ – I want to go home to my fiancé and spend the last few months of my off time with him before I’m deployed again.”

“So, you’re a liar _and _a coward,” Chief Kang glowered.

“Enough!” Chief Han interrupted.

“If I’m going on this mission, Chief Han, I want to lead it.” Hongjoong said, turning towards him. “It’s your best chance to get in and find what you need. And I want full immunity, because whatever we do to get into the Ratway is going to be illegal.”

“I will allow for those on the mission to decide this,” Chief Han said, folding his arms. “Detective Park?”

Detective Park’s hand was clenching, and unclenching. Hongjoong counted three breaths before he finally spoke.

“I will allow Mr. Kim to do what is necessary to get us into the Ratway,” he said. “But I am still leading the mission.”

“Officer Song?”

He slowly lifted his head from his coffee. He nodded his head. “I agree to these terms.”

“Since the Cruiser seats four, I will remove two of you from the mission. Do any of you wish to remain on the mission?”

“I will,” Officer Lee said. A woman.

“Not to be sexist,” Hongjoong interrupted. “But you coming is a bad idea. _Trust me_.”

Officer Lee flinched, then slowly lowered her hand.

“And why is that?” Chief Kang asked snidely. “She is one of the best officers in Noctis – she will aid you well.”

“Pirates rarely bring women into their crew. Most believe it to be bad luck,” Hongjoong replied. “For her own safety, she must stay behind. A woman in the Ratway is grounds for kidnapping – and worse.”

Officer Lee blanched. “I will stay behind, Chief Kang,”

“We’ll take Officer Jung,” Detective Park said.

Officer Jung, a bulky man in his late twenties with a scar on his hand, nodded his acceptance. Hongjoong definitely approved. He looked like a pirate far more than Detective Park did, even if he was steadily pushing out of the age range. Pirates didn’t often live past thirty.

“So, it’s settled,” Chief Han said with a firm nod. “All reports are to be given to myself and Chief Kang. To those of you who are _not_ on this mission, it goes without saying – nothing about this matter leaves this room. The ones who are on the mission should remain at the station as much as possible to be safe until the mission is over.”

A chorus of _yes, sir_s slid around the room. Hongjoong held in a grimace. Officer Song Mingi downed the last of his coffee in a single gulp.

“You are dismissed from this meeting. Continue your day as scheduled and report here tomorrow morning at 09:00 hours.”

As officers rose to their feet all around him, Hongjoong sat back down. Detective Park caught his eyes and did the same. Officer Song remained where he was, and Officer Jung looked between them in confusion as officers cleared out for their overdue lunchbreak.

“Was there something else you wished to speak about, Mr. Kim?” Detective Park asked tensely when the door swung shut.

“Nothing,” Hongjoong responded. “Is there anything _you_ wish to speak to me about?”

Detective Park paused. His lips thinned into a line. He folded his hands into a tight knot on the table in front of him.

“I am..._concerned_ about where your loyalties lie on this mission,” Detective Park said.

Officer Song finally looked up, his eyes darting between him and Detective Park. Officer Jung’s feet tapped audibly on the floor.

“Whether you believe me or not, my loyalties are to Mars,” Hongjoong replied.

“But you are not Martian,” Detective Park accused.

“As we are speaking, I am.”

“But you were not _born_ here. You are not Martian.”

Hongjoong tried not to flinch. “Detective Park, what I have done for this planet might be small coin compared to what you have done. But just because I was not _born_ on your planet doesn’t mean I don’t love it the way you do. There are things here I want to protect.”

“And you have a long history of piracy. I do not trust you with my life, and I am sure you do not trust me with yours.”

“You’re wrong,” Hongjoong retorted. “If you still look at me as a pirate, I will not try to justify myself. But one thing pirates have more than loot is loyalty. We watch each other’s backs, because nobody else will. When we board that speeder to enter the Ratway, we will only have each other until we return home. There’s no backup; no reinforcements – nobody is going to save your ass but the people by your side.

“That is why, Detective Park, by agreeing to this mission, I have pledged my loyalty to this crew – because until we return home, that is what we are – a crew. To hide among the enemy is to become the enemy. We act as one, or we don’t come back.”

Officer Jung nodded slowly. “I believe he is right.”

Detective Park let out a heavy sigh. “We will make this work. Let’s break for lunch. We’ll meet at the impound center in two hours to collect the speeder.”

“Sounds good to me,” Officer Jung stood up without hesitation and left the room before anyone could say another word.

Detective Park collected his data chips and stuffed them back into his bag. He cast one final, scandalized look in Hongjoong’s direction before exiting. Officer Song Mingi sat with his empty mug between his hands another moment longer before he stood up with a heavy sigh.

“Song Mingi, was it?” Hongjoong asked, looking up at him.

“I...yeah.” Mingi said, looking away.

“You looked after my Nautilus in impound,” Hongjoong recalled. He hadn’t forgotten that name, even though he’d had the ship for several months now.

“I didn’t know it was a pirate ship,” Mingi replied.

“Would you have ignored it if you’d known?” Hongjoong asked.

Mingi didn’t answer immediately. Hongjoong allowed himself to smile.

“Once this mission is over, I’ll take you up if you’d like.”

Mingi’s expression brightened in excitement, before it gave way to the nervousness he’d seen before – only multiplied.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mingi said, starting to walk away.

“It’s okay to be afraid, you know,” Hongjoong interrupted. “You went through a lot. Being chased by that many speeders out to kill you and getting out of it alive isn’t something you get over with a good night’s sleep.”

“Don’t act like you’re concerned,” Mingi argued. “I’m _fine_. I just—”

“I _am_ concerned,” Hongjoong turned around and shrugged broadly with his hands. “I’ve seen post-traumatic stress before. I’ve watched it destroy people. If you don’t think you’re able to do this mission—”

“I _can_ do this mission,” Mingi’s hands clenched at his sides.

“Do you know what the most dangerous thing in space is?” Hongjoong asked.

“Meteoroids,” Mingi said irritably.

“Hubris.”

Mingi blinked in confusion.

“Humility is one of the rarest things among pirates.” Hongjoong said, trying to look as sincere as possible. “Pride, and the desire for revenge kills more people in the void than meteoroids. Do you have someone waiting for you at home?”

Mingi shook his head.

“Anyone you love?”

“Jeong Yunho.”

The name came out like an explosion – like an airlock suddenly coming loose. Mingi’s face flushed a vivid crimson and he turned away to hide behind his hand.

“You should go to them,” Hongjoong said.

“He’s on Earth,” Mingi said between his fingers. “I’m trying to save money so I can go to him, but he almost has enough to come here, and I don’t want him to come here.”

“Why not?”

“Earth is better.”

Hongjoong laughed darkly. “It’s not.”

Mingi frowned.

“Consider my advice, okay?” Hongjoong said, before he could ask. “Go to Chief Han and get taken off the mission. Take the time you need to come to terms with what happened outside of Labyrinthus. Whatever money you have saved, give it to Yunho so he can come to Mars. Don’t throw your life away on a foolish mission like this.”

“You think it’ll go wrong, then,” Mingi said uneasily.

“I don’t think it will, I _fear_ it.” Hongjoong grimaced. “Remember hubris? Detective Park has it – and Officer Jung is a wild card. I don’t know what he’s thinking. But you? I think you’re smart. You have a future. Someone is willing to leave Earth for you. The next shuttles between Mars and Earth are in a month. There won’t be another chance for another two Earth years. Just...take it, kid. Don’t wait.”

He patted Mingi on the arm and turned towards the door. He didn’t look back, and hoped as he headed to the nearest café that he’d saved at least one life on this fool’s errand of a mission. He feared he might not be able to save another – not even his own.

\--

The Charger was gorgeous, especially for a low-end commercial hovercraft speeder. She was a dull, metallic silver, polished to a flawless shine by years of driving through Martian dust. Hongjoong scanned her in a second, noting the two propulsion vents on the back, and a quick peek under her belly revealed three, large exhaust vents. She would have a smooth, solid ride, but likely wouldn’t race faster than sixty at best. Hongjoong wondered if he was able to get to the engine long enough he could bump the speed up to ninety.

“_This_ is what we’re working with?” Officer Jung said, staring at the Charger. “My grandpa owned one of these. The Equinox is much better.”

Hongjoong ignored him and ran his hand over the Charger’s hull. He knocked on it with a knuckle and listened to it ring out.

“We’ve got time to change if need be,” Detective Park said. “We will await Officer Song’s arrival, and if we have majority vote, we will go to the Equinox instead.”

“You know my opinion, Detective,” Hongjoong said. “I want the Charger.”

“Consider the Equinox, though. More man power, and it goes faster. If we get into trouble, we can escape,” Officer Jung said.

“Ideally, I would like us to _not_ get into trouble,” Hongjoong replied. “That’s why we’re taking the Charger.”

The hangar swung open. Hongjoong’s heart swelled, and dropped like a stone just as quickly.

Officer Song Mingi stepped into the hangar, his hands pressed deep into his pockets. He took a slow breath and looked up at the Charger before turning towards Detective Park.

“This is what we’re taking?” Mingi asked.

“We’re debating the Equinox,” Detective Park said. “More hands, more speed – just in case.”

“They have rockets,” Mingi deadpanned. “Going fast won’t help us. I’m with Hongjoong. Whatever he thinks is best, that’s what we should do.”

Mingi met his eyes and smiled. He nodded his head once before looking away. Hongjoong turned towards the Charger to hide his smile. Mingi looked better, despite the short amount of time that had passed between their conversation. Hongjoong hoped he’d done some soul searching and discovered what was the most important thing right now. Hongjoong didn’t know if he’d make the same choice, but he couldn’t deny he was happy to see him.

“Fine then,” Detective Park glowered. “We take the Charger. But so help me if I have to say I told you so—”

“You won’t,” Hongjoong said, disengaging the Charger’s airlock and pulling the door. “Someone get me the toolbox – we have a few things to fix.”

“I’m sorry, _fix_?” Detective Park climbed into the cockpit with him, needing to duck to get through the door. “A check has been run – all systems are fully functional.”

“Great,” Hongjoong said, squeezing himself between the control panel and the pilot’s seat. “And now, we have to remove the beacon and strip the paint off. Would you like to get started, Detective?”

“Remove the—”

“Here’s the toolbox,” Mingi said, shoving it along the floor and climbing in with them.

“Look,” Hongjoong said, pulling out the screwdriver and popping the magnetic head into place. “This beacon will tell the _planet_ where we are, including the pirates. It goes, or we don’t get into the Ratway. No pirate _ever_ keeps an active beacon. They also don’t show up on RADAR,” Hongjoong twisted a screw and began to pull the maintenance panel out. “The speeders at Labyrinthus are probably using a signal jammer. As for the paint, they’re using Martian dust as dye – that’s why they’re hard to spot on the surface. I can code a jammer in a few hours and slip it into the software.”

“This is a lot of unnecessary work,” Detective Park said. His words were heavily laced with spite. “I want to be on our way before sundown.”

“Not a chance,” Hongjoong replied. “If you’re quick and find a sandblaster, we might get this thing repainted before then. We’ll be on our way tomorrow morning.”

“I think you are forgetting who is in charge here—”

“And _you_ are forgetting who was deployed to keep all of us_ alive_,” Hongjoong argued. “I’ll make us look like we belong in the Ratway, because if we have to fight our way in, we’re all dead. Get a sandblaster or two – hell, three would be perfect – and enough white paint to cover this speeder.”

Detective Park swallowed. Hongjoong watched him open his mouth to argue once – then twice – before the gave up with a furious snort and climbed out of the cockpit.

“Officer Jung, with me,” Detective Park said without looking back.

Officer Jung looked between Hongjoong and Detective Park with startled eyes before nervously trailing after him. The airlock clicked and hissed open before closing with a melodic ‘beep’.

“Hubris, huh?” Mingi said, his neck curved to keep from bumping against the ceiling. There was a tiny, amused smile on his lips. He didn’t hold eye-contact longer than half a second before he looked away and fidgeted with his utility belt.

“Yeah,” Hongjoong said, but he couldn’t find the same amusement Mingi had. He massaged his forehead. He didn’t normally challenge authority – truthfully, he usually _was_ the authority. That was probably why it had been so easy to slip the gloves back on; to talk down to someone who was being foolish and kick them back into line. He’d always had a talent for it – he was an inborn leader; a listener, a caretaker, and an iron fist where necessary. That, coupled with the fact that he was holding a screwdriver with the intent to disable a beacon, made Hongjoong feel a sickening sense of duality; of moral ambiguity. He was dipping his toes into the life again. Doing it with permission didn’t make it feel any less disturbing. He wanted to back out – to call General Eden and tell him he couldn’t do it. He wanted to leave Detective Park with his foolish ego, and Officer Jung’s apparent soft-minded follower’s instinct. They both probably came from a place of good intentions, but both of them were loose canons, and Hongjoong feared what they might do under pressure. Back when he’d been a pirate, he would’ve never brought them into his crew.

“Are you okay?” Mingi asked. He shuffled and sat down on the floor next to him. He fidgeted and snatched brief looks in Hongjoong’s direction.

“Why did you come back, Mingi?” Hongjoong asked.

Mingi inhaled audibly. It was a slow, deep breath with just the slightest tremble. “I sent Yunho a message. I told him...that I was going on a mission, and he might not hear from me again, but...that I was doing it to make Mars a better place. I...want Mars to be safe for him and his brother if he wants to come. That’s why...I...want to be proud of my planet, and to stop thinking that Mars is inferior just because we don’t have a blue sky, or proper weather...or _wildlife_.

“I want to go to Earth someday, but...you’re right. He’s right, too. It’s easier for hm to come here right now. But I want Mars to be safe. And if there’s something I can do about that, then I will.”

Hongjoong nodded and sighed quietly. “I’ll do everything I can to make sure we all get home safe.”

“I believe that,” Mingi said. “That’s another reason I came back. I think you need someone to watch your back. _Really_ watch your back. I don’t think Detective Park would hesitate to ditch you if he had the chance.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that either,” Hongjoong said as he lied down to crawl into the maintenance hatch. He nudged some wires aside, and peered up at Mingi with a small smile. “Thank you. Really. Come down here and hold the flashlight up for me?”

Mingi nodded and grabbed the pocket-sized light from the toolbox and lied down next to him. With some maneuvering, Mingi’s head was practically on his shoulder as he held the flashlight up where Hongjoong pointed. He only moved when he needed to grab another tool.

“Won’t taking this out disable the ship?” Mingi asked as Hongjoong began carefully overriding the beacon’s integration. It was a physical chip, rather than a program. It made it easier to disable, but also much easier to screw up.

“Yes,” Hongjoong replied. “This type designed to act as a key part of the circuit, so if it’s not there, nothing will run.”

“So how do you take it out without disabling the ship?”

“I really shouldn’t tell you,” Hongjoong laughed. “You just remake the circuits, block the chip, and it’ll come out without an issue.”

Hongjoong worked fast and joined fragile wires in the tangled input-output patterns of integrated processing chips. The more wires slid into place, the more he remembered the number of times he had done this under the pressure of being caught in the act of theft. He remembered a time when his partner had been the one handing him the tools with practiced ease and putting his fingers where they needed to be without Hongjoong telling him to. Mingi’s hands were different. They were big and bulky, and their inexperience caused them to slow him down. But he knew what every tool was when Hongjoong said the word.

By the time Detective Park and Officer Jung returned with two sandblasters and a trolly full of speeder paint, Mingi was turning the beacon chip between his fingers curiously and Hongjoong was making sure all systems were still operational. Detective Park glared at the chip in Mingi’s fingers before turning his attention onto Hongjoong once more.

“You do realize that this speeder was set for auction, right?” Detective Park asked.

“I know how the impound system works, thanks,” Hongjoong replied, not looking up as he double checked the life support systems. “If you don’t pay up, the rusties try to sell it for funds, and if it doesn’t sell, it gets scrapped.” He swiped away the last of the display and climbed out of the pilot’s seat. “If we get in and get out with the speeder, I’ll put the beacon back and you can do whatever you want with it. Either way, I’m sure _someone_ will be happy to purchase that fancy Equinox next door and you’ll still get your funding.”

Detective Park flushed angrily. Hongjoong jumped out of the cockpit and headed for the lockers full of environment suits. He popped the latch and pulled one out.

“Where are you going?” Detective Park asked. His eyes darted to the external airlock as though he expected Hongjoong to have rigged it to fail.

“I’m going to get dust,” Hongjoong replied, pulling the suit over his legs. “It needs time to warm before we can mix it into the paint. So, unless you want to go outside, start stripping the paint. Have any of you walked before?”

Officer Jung raised a hand. “I did search and rescue for a few years.”

“Great. You suit up too, then and grab some of those buckets over there.”

“_I_ am leading this mission—”

“Detective Park, Warrant Officer Kim Hongjoong, requesting permission to bring Officer Jung outside with me to collect dust to repaint the speeder?” Hongjoong said with a salute and a smile.

Detective Park flushed once more. He looked like he wanted to tell Officer Jung to stop pulling on the environment suit. But when the task was necessary, there was no argument to have. He turned away and grabbed one of the sandblasters.

“Officer Song, seal the cockpit,” he ordered with more aggression than he really needed.

“Yes, sir,” Mingi said, climbing down the ladder and pulling the cockpit door down.

Hongjoong laid the seals over his environmental suit and pulled his helmet on. “Diagnostic test,” he ordered the computer. The helmet display reported all systems fully functional, and a full oxygen tank. He unsealed he helmet and stood to wait for Officer Jung to finish running his own system check.

They stepped into the small airlock next to the large docking doors and started the cycle. Hongjoong breathed the smell of plastic and sterilized air as his suit automatically sealed itself for the Martian atmosphere. He held up a hand to sign the communication channel’s radio signal and switched it on.

“Testing,” Hongjoong said. “Can you hear me?”

“Copy,” Officer Jung sounded excited. “I haven’t done this in awhile.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Hongjoong said with a small smile.

The airlock cycled open, and Hongjoong felt the jolt of abrupt depressurization and the gust of icy air from Mars’s atmosphere. He stepped out and looked up at the sky through his visor. It was crystalline today; almost clear. With the sun so high, Hongjoong could just make out hints of blue etched with dusty red.

“Beautiful day!” Officer Jung said jovially.

Hongjoong hummed his agreement and picked up the shovel to start scooping the loose dirt into the large bucket’s they’d brought out with them. He tried to enjoy it – he really did. The rusty hues of Martian earth was like nothing else in the solar system. It was so fine that Hongjoong couldn’t see the individual grains, and it puffed into the air at the slightest brush of his toes.

It didn’t take long for them to fill all of the buckets. Hongjoong sighed as he waited inside the airlock for the pressure to rise. Officer Jung was humming an odd tune he’d never heard before. Hongjoong flicked off the headset to shut him up.

Detective Park and Mingi were running both sandblasters when they returned. Hongjoong left the buckets inside of the airlock and stripped off his suit. He plugged it back into the wall so it could run the automated cleaning system and went to see how Mingi was faring. He gently adjusted the angle of the blaster to strip the paint better. Hongjoong was already imagining the Charger in red, and it made his heart pound with a wild excitement.

With the original paint gone, there was little time for rest. They dumped scoops of Martian dust into the cans of paint and got to work. The thickened paint went on like matte, and rust coloured dust covered them all by the time the Charger was repainted. Hongjoong thought they _all_ looked like pirates, and he almost laughed out loud.

Mingi stared up at the Charger as he chewed his bottom lip. “It looks just like them. I kind of hate it.”

Hongjoong laughed and gently clapped him on the shoulder. A puff of red dust came out of his uniform. “That’s what we want,” he said. The last thing they needed to do was code the RADAR jammer. Hongjoong wasn’t looking forward to spending hours hacking the ship and turning it into a signal trap, but it had to be done.

Detective Park checked his watch and cleared his throat. “Right. We meet back at 10:00 hours for deployment.”

“Don’t wear your uniforms,” Hongjoong said. “Put on the shittiest clothes in your closet and show up.”

Detective Park shot him an irritated look.

“Were you planning on infiltrating the Ratway in your police uniform?” Hongjoong asked.

Detective Park didn’t answer his question. “Dismissed,” he said, then left the airlock.

“See you tomorrow,” Officer Jung said and followed him out.

Mingi remained where he was and looked towards Hongjoong. “Feel like grabbing dinner...?”

“I’d love to,” Hongjoong replied. “But I’m going to spend the night with my fiancé and sleep early. I’ll be back here tomorrow around five to program the jammer.”

“Cool,” Mingi said with a nod. “I’ll bring breakfast.”

“I like americanos.”

“Me too. Bacon sandwiches?”

“Sounds good,” Hongjoong smiled.

They parted ways at the Port Aries tram station. Mingi said a quick farewell and bolted for his waiting tram. It slid away mere seconds after he’d jumped onto it. Hongjoong had to wait a few minutes for his, but was the first in line. He picked his favourite seat in the back and settled in. He wrote a quick _on my way home _message to Seonghwa and sent it with a swipe. He stared at the city outside of the tram window while he waited for his stop.

Hongjoong didn’t get a reply to his message, but when the elevator doors swung open into the apartment, Seonghwa was waiting for him. He was dressed in his pyjamas and a silk robe that hugged his waist in a way that drew Hongjoong’s eyes. A half empty cup of cold tea sat between his hands. He shot to his feet when the door came open and rushed towards him.

“That’s it, right?” Seonghwa asked. “You’re home now?”

“For the night,” Hongjoong regretted the words as soon as he’d said them. Seonghwa’s face fell. The broken expression accentuated the puffy red splotches beneath his eyes. “Today was mission prep. Tomorrow...tomorrow I go out.”

“What’s the mission?” Seonghwa asked, holding the front of his shirt.

“I can’t tell you,” Hongjoong held his hands and smiled apologetically. “But I’m going to make the most of tonight. Let’s not think about this. Let me think about you.”

Seonghwa made a small sound of protest when Hongjoong undid his robe and nudged it off his shoulders. Then, his hands gripped the hem of Hongjoong’s shirt and pulled it up and over his head.

Hongjoong kissed him as though he was the air he needed to survive. Seonghwa returned each kiss with equal enthusiasm. They were both desperate to forget – both desperate to drown in each other’s presence lest the end come sooner than they wanted.

Seonghwa lay naked and beautiful beneath him on their bed. His chest was heaving beneath Hongjoong’s hands, and soft whimpers poured from his throat as his fingers traced Seonghwa’s sensitive areas. Hongjoong could play Seonghwa’s body like an instrument. Each touch drew the sounds he wanted, and every one of them pushed reality further and further away. Hongjoong didn’t think about the mission. He didn’t think about the Ratway. He didn’t think back any further than now, because now was what mattered the most.

“Hongjoong...” Seonghwa moaned as Hongjoong sank into his hot, trembling body. Sweat prickled on his forehead as he pushed Seonghwa’s knees up towards his chest. He looked down at his fiancé and licked his lips. Seonghwa’s eyes darkened as his head fell back.

They didn’t often do it rough. When they had time, they both liked it slow and tantalizing. When they knew they could be separated at any moment, things became a little less gentle. Hongjoong moved things a little bit faster; made things feel a little more desperate. Hongjoong had once worried about hurting him, but Seonghwa insisted he never did. Seonghwa liked being controlled; liked being blissed out on feral sex when they had something to escape from.

The lewd slap of skin harmonized with Seonghwa’s breathy moans. Hongjoong made him hold his legs upright so he could grip his hips tighter. He drew Seonghwa back against himself with each thrust and drowned himself in the heat of his body. Seonghwa was always beautifully tight, even when they had sex often. He chased his orgasm and reached down to stroke Seonghwa’s twitching cock until both of them fell into ecstasy.

Hongjoong leaned over him and kissed him slowly. Wound up in each other’s arms, they trembled. Seonghwa ran his hands over his body and held him tightly. Hongjoong never wanted to let go. He was ruefully reminded of feeling this way long ago – of laying awake while Seonghwa slept in his arms, knowing that when the morning came, he would be back on his ship with the potential to never return. Though he wished to claim that he’d changed, the truth was apparent. Hongjoong would always be shaped by his history. Even if things were different now, his years of piracy held him like a shackle and refused to let him go.

Hongjoong squeezed his eyes shut and hid his tears in Seonghwa’s hair. He breathed the mint and citrus scent of his shampoo, and let his silky hair tickle his cheeks. He was angry that things had turned out this way; angry that the one thing he had chosen for himself was being denied by forces outside of his control; angry that in the eyes of far too many, he would always be the thing he no longer wanted to be.

But most of all, he was angry that Seonghwa was suffering at his side, all because he had come into his life. Hongjoong would always hate himself for that.


	3. Chapter 3

Hongjoong left before Seonghwa woke, because he was selfish and didn’t want to say goodbye.

He dressed quietly, careful to avoid disturbing his sleeping fiancé. He had to dig to find the proper attire, but eventually rediscovered the box he’d dumped his old clothes in. They were from another time – another place, really. Hongjoong ran his hands over the worn fabric and allowed himself to feel a dark nostalgia.

The once white, now grey shirt had been torn in three different places and hastily mended with mismatched thread. It still smelled faintly of machinery and lubricant. The cargo pants were even more worse for wear. A dozen improvised pockets had been sewn onto the inside of the waistline to conceal more than just simple weaponry. The knees had ripped open enough times that Hongjoong had patched them with chunks of fabric ripped off of an abandoned couch on Ceres, and then the patches had torn open. He’d sewn the hole closed six times, and it showed. His shoes were a lost cause. They were bordering on unwearable with several holes worn through to the sole.

He yanked them on, and hated the feeling.

Before he left, he looked down at Seonghwa’s blissfully sleeping face for what he hoped wasn’t the last time. He brushed the hair from his eyes and tried not to think of all of the times before – all of the times he’d left in the dead of night and vanished for months on end. He would tell himself that Seonghwa deserved better. He would run away without a single word and not think about what he was leaving behind. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed unconditional love until he’d had it again. He’d tortured himself and lingered, took more than he gave back, and also lived in fear that Seonghwa would someday grow tired of him.

Yet, whenever he had come crawling back to Mars, Seonghwa was always waiting with open arms to take him back into his heart. He claimed Hongjoong gave him reprise from his picture-perfect life; that his goody two-shoes image was just that – an image, and he longed for the wilder things he’d been denied growing up under an elite reputation. Seonghwa craved his presence like he craved a drug, and would always tease him with not-so-subtle touches that begged him to shove Seonghwa into the nearest broom closet and muffle his desperate moans with his lips. Hongjoong was selfish, and he needed Seonghwa more than he dared to admit, so he was all too happy to oblige.

The tram rolled into Port Aries at a time Hongjoong liked to call ‘bullshit o’clock’. He eyed the sign pointing to the hangar that housed Nessie, and resisted the urge to bail on this mission and disappear into the universe. He looked away with a grimace and started for the impound center. He only realized he had no way into the Charger’s hangar when he spotted the ID scanner on the internal airlock’s door.

“Fuck...” he mumbled, tapping his forehead against the glass in frustration. He really could’ve just stayed in bed with Seonghwa. Now, he would have to either ask the officer on duty to open the hangar for him, or wait for the others to arrive. The impound officer likely wouldn’t let him in without police ID, so his only option was to wait.

He’d forgotten about Mingi meeting him for breakfast until the young officer pushed into the impound hangar with a paper bag and two coffees in hand.

“Yeah, I realized this would happen,” Mingi said with a laugh. “So, I came a little early.”

“Bless you,” Hongjoong said, taking the bag and coffees to let Mingi scan his badge to open the hangar. He caught a whiff of the coffee as they stepped through the door. His eyes widened. “No way; Panchino’s?”

“You know it?” Mingi asked.

“Best coffee on Mars,” Hongjoong said, peeling off the lid and inhaling the sharp, nutty scent of meticulously grown Martian greenhouse coffee. “Seonghwa and I go on dates there.” His heart lurched, and he smiled weakly at the crema floating on top of the americano. This might be the last time he would drink this coffee, and it wouldn’t be with Seonghwa.

“Is Seonghwa your fiancé?” Mingi asked, popping the top off his own cup and sitting down on a bench.

“Yeah,” Hongjoong said, sitting down next to him. He closed his eyes, and just breathed the familiar scent and tried to think of better times. It didn’t take him long to realize there weren’t many times they spent time together without the question of _when will we be apart again_ hanging over their heads. He wondered what it was like to love without worrying about time.

“Was he a pirate too?” Mingi asked.

“No—God, no.” Hongjoong shook his head. “No, he’s the son of a few high-profile scientists. He’s a doctor now – Marineris General Hospital. He wants to he a pediatrician, so he splits hours between the maternity ward and the ER.”

“How did you meet him, then?” Mingi questioned. He handed one of the bacon sandwiches to Hongjoong and unwrapped his own.

“It’s...one of those stupid wrong place, wrong time stories,” Hongjoong said. “The hangar his parent’s science team rented for their return happened to be next to a pirate bay. He walked into mine by mistake. My crew wanted to kidnap him and dump him on Ceres so we could keep him from snaking, but him going missing would’ve caused the blackjacks to poke around, so I let him go.”

“That’s...good of you?”

Hongjoong snorted. “Sure, ‘good’, if that’s what you wanted to call it. I stalked him for a week to make sure he wasn’t going to tell. He wasn’t stupid, either. He never told. He just got sick of me following him around and confronted me. If I had to find the moment I fell for him, I think that was it.”

“Having him tell you off, huh?” Mingi asked with a wry smile.

Hongjoong’s ears burned white hot. “N-No. Just...Just his...courage, I guess.”

Mingi’s muffled a snort into his sandwich and Hongjoong slapped his arm.

“What about Yunho?” Hongjoong asked, changing the subject. “That’s his name, right? How did you meet him?”

“Ah,” it was Mingi’s turn to flush a brilliant pink. “My school did a message-exchange program with a school on Earth. My mom signed me up, and I was paired with him. At first, I thought it was a dumb idea, but Yunho was so...excited to talk to someone from another planet. Most pairs fall out of touch after year or two at best, but Yunho never did. We have so many shared interests, we always have something to talk about. It’s been fifteen Earth-years, and we’re still talking. Now, I...can’t imagine life without him.”

Hongjoong smiled into his coffee cup. He sighed a moment later, and the warm bubble in his chest began to sink once more.

“Are you okay?” Mingi asked.

“Can I be honest with you, Mingi?" Hongjoong asked.

“I mean...sure,” he said cautiously. The paper around his sandwich crinkled as he fidgeted.

“I don't want to do this mission,” he said. “I'm only here because I was ordered to be. If our roles had been reversed, I would've left. Seonghwa is too important to me to give up for anything. I don't understand why you're still here.”

Mingi shrugged and sighed heavily. “Because...I'm afraid if I don’t do this mission, something will go wrong, and I will only blame myself.”

“Don't say that. That’s not fair,” Hongjoong sighed. “You can't blame yourself.”

“But I will,” Mingi's head thumped quietly against the wall. “I know myself. I hate being unable to do something to help others. That’s why I became a police officer I just...want to _help_.”

“You can’t save everyone,” Hongjoong said. “As noble of a pursuit it is.”

“I know. But damn it if I haven't been trying.” Mingi massaged his forehead. “It keeps me up at night, you know. I'm always thinking about those people I couldn't help, because there wasn't enough evidence or...or evidence pointed against them, and their cry for help made everything worse...I just...I'm afraid I'll make a mistake, and people are going to get hurt because of me.”

“You can't think that way,” Hongjoong reasoned, laying a hand on Mingi's knee and give it a squeeze. “You can't put that much responsibility on your shoulders. We all have a little bit of ‘save the world’ in us, believe me, I know – I have it too. But if you keep giving yourself, someday you won't have anything left. Sometimes...you need to pull away and let yourself come first.” He swallowed thickly and let go of Mingi's knee. The image of his crew was back in his mind - their expressions of horror and betrayal when Hongjoong announced he was turning himself in and giving up the life; announcing that they needed to find a new crew, or risk capture. Hongjoong had put himself first that day, and left behind six men he'd crewed with for over five years - some as long as ten.

Hongjoong hoped to never see any of them again. For the most part, the feeling was mutual. But his first officer – his partner since day one – had taken the time to slip a short message into his hand terminal before it had been seized.

_I’m with the Blackwings now._

Mingi closed his eyes. He sighed softly and ruffled his untidy hair. “You're right...I mean...that's what my mother's been telling me for years.” He laughed softly and stared down at the floor. “But...I can't think that I made the wrong choice now. I've already made it. I can't back out now. And I promised to watch your back, didn't I?” He smiled nervously at Hongjoong.

“You did,” Hongjoong confirmed. “But if you ended up breaking that promise, I wouldn't resent you for it.”

“I won't,” Mingi vowed.

“Whether or not you do, I will be watching yours,” Hongjoong promised. “I'm getting all of us out alive, or I will have failed myself.”

“Now you're being hypocritical,” Mingi argued.

“I'm not. When you're a captain, that's your responsibility.” Hongjoong said. “No man left behind. Unity comes with trust, and it's the captain who keeps things together. If the crew loses faith in the captain, it's no longer a crew. It's anarchy.”

“Detective Park is leading the mission,” Mingi pointed out.

“Do you have faith in Detective Park? Do you think he will lead us in and out safely?”

Mingi flushed. Instead of answering, he shoved the last of his bacon sandwich into his mouth.

“That's why, Mingi. That's why I am taking this burden the way I am,” Hongjoong crumpled his empty wrapper. “I don't trust Detective Park half as far as I can throw him. I'm the only one who _really_ knows what we're up against. The burden is mine, not yours. But as long as someone like you is covering my six, I think I'll be alright.”

“Well...I've got your...uh...six?” Mingi smiled faintly. “That means back, right?”

Hongjoong nodded and swallowed another gulp of his coffee. He savoured the taste, but it was already growing cold. He checked the time on his hand terminal and stood up.

“Let's finish up.” he said. “I have to get that jammer coded before the detective gets here.”

“Ah, yes—um...” Mingi stood up and pulled on the hem of his oversized sweater. “I'm dressed okay, right?”

Hongjoong hadn't had a real chance to look until now. He gave Mingi a swift once-over. His sweater looked new, but that wasn't uncommon. It was the torn sneakers with the half-detached tread and the jeans with the blown-out knee that really sold the disguise.

“It's perfect,” Hongjoong said. He pulled the Charger's door open and clambered inside. Mingi followed after he finished off the last of his coffee and dropped the empty cup into the recycler.

Hongjoong took another long sip of his and set it on the floor next to him before powering up the Charger. Hacking into the ships code wasn't difficult. In the waistband of his old pants, his codebreaker chip was still hidden in a small folded pocket with a woven thread tie. He slid it into the data port of the Charger's control terminal and let it do the work for him.

Mingi's eyes widened as the ship opened its internal mechanisms to them within a handful of seconds. “What...how did you...? That's illegal technology!”

“Yeah, it's incredible that the rusties strip searched me six years ago and didn't find it,” Hongjoong laughed. “Keep it a secret from our good detective friend?”

“I...yeah...yeah okay,” Mingi agreed. He stared up at the string of data covering the display terminal. The furrow in his brow told Hongjoong that he couldn't read it, but he was trying.

“It's Kroascript,” Hongjoong explained, searching for the communications section. “It's the most common form of vehicle codes now. Older ones still run Jarvis, but Kroa's commands are shorthand and easily written.”

“Ah,” Mingi said, his hands on the back of the pilot's seat as he watched Hongjoong work.

The codes were familiar, but he hadn't had a copy of the blocker code saved for many years. He had to copy a string of the Charger's communications codes into a separate channel as he wrote a new line for the receiver. He remembered the basic commands, but the details didn't start emerging until he was typing them in.

_IF <SGN-RDR INCM; THEN <TRNSMT-SGN 01110011 01110100 01100011; ELSE..._

Hongjoong sank into the data stream and inputted the fresh line of code. He ran tests. He listened to the jammers output to make sure it would disrupt the outflow of RADAR signals. It wouldn't stop LADAR, but very little could. He was certain he had done it correctly, but he'd never find out until they were out in the field and someone started to paint a target on their backs.

He had just finished installing the new code into the system when the airlock swung open with a hiss. Hongjoong yanked the codebreaker from the cockpit terminal and jammed it back into his pocket. He grabbed his now cold coffee and finished it in a single gulp before jumping out of the Charger to greet the rest of the crew.

“Already here, are you?” Detective Park asked. His eyes darted over Hongjoong's body as he observed his tattered clothes.

“I had to install the jammer,” Hongjoong replied. Detective Park hadn’t taken him seriously. He was dressed in a high-neck, ill-fitting blouse and a pair of bootcut jeans that looked too new for where they were going. He would stick out like a sore thumb. “You look like you've got money, Detective.”

Detective Park narrowed his eyes. “Are you threatening me?”

“No,” Hongjoong replied. “I just thought you'd like to know that was what you looked like.” It was too late for any of them to go home and change, but he hoped Officer Jung would arrive in something similar to Mingi’s hoodie.

Detective Park sniffed. Hongjoong looked away. Mingi was sitting with his legs dangling out of the cockpit. His eyes darted between Hongjoong and Detective Park as though he expected one of them to pull a gun. Considering the detective was wearing one openly on his waist, it wasn't a far-fetched idea.

“If we’re ready to go, we open the airlock as soon as Officer Jung arrives,” Detective Park said. “Officer Song, put your gun on your hip where it belongs.”

“Yes, sir,” Mingi said, then hastily began tucking his sweater into his waistband. His handgun emerged as the fabric vanished into his belt.

“Are you armed, Mr. Kim?” Detective Park asked.

“No, sir,” Hongjoong replied. “I'm not licenced to carry when I'm not in uniform.”

“I hope you weren't expecting us to arm you.”

“You? Give me a gun? No,” Hongjoong laughed. “I would've been shocked if you had.”

“Glad we're on the same page.” Detective Park’s smile was sickening, and Hongjoong wanted to wipe it from his face. He thought of exactly how he would do it – how he would slam the heel of his hand into his nose and permanently disfigure him to teach him what mutiny looked like. He held himself back. He might've had a free permit to commit illegal acts to get them inside of the Ratway, but he was certain it wouldn't cover assaulting an officer.

He climbed back into the cockpit and took his seat in front of the helm. Behind him, Mingi shuffled his feet nervously.

“Do you...want mine?” Mingi asked, reaching for his handgun.

“No,” Hongjoong replied. “Keep it. I’ll survive.”

Mingi nodded slowly and sat down in the seat behind his. He didn’t say anything more, but Hongjoong felt his presence like a weight on his back. The stress of the upcoming mission was finally starting to sink in, and he was growing hyperaware of every little thing around him. The old wound on his thigh ached with each throb of his heartbeat. The standby light on the cockpit terminal blinked exactly once every second. Mingi was tapping his toes, the sound only audible because of his one, broken shoe. Outside of the Charger, Detective Park was on his hand terminal. He paced the airlock, far too put together to pass for a pirate. He wore his luxury with the confidence of a man who desired power.

Hongjoong hated him.

The airlock hissed open before Hongjoong could sink any deeper into his downward spiral of thoughts.

“Perfect, Officer Jung,” Detective Park said, tucking away his terminal. “We’re ready to depart, then?”

“Yeah, okay,” Officer Jung replied obediently.

Hongjoong closed his eyes for a moment before looking out of the open cockpit door. Officer Jung was, thankfully, wearing a heavily faded black sweat shirt with a logo so crumbled it could no longer be identified. His cargo pants were thinning at the heels and ill fitting around his hips. The sneakers were new.

Officer Jung climbed into the cockpit and frowned. The Charger’s two most comfortable seats were already occupied, and the fold down seats in the wall had yet to be pulled.

“Uh...seats four?” He asked.

“Pull the handles on the walls,” Hongjoong gestured. “There’s two crash seats at the back.”

Detective Park laid his hand on the back of Hongjoong’s seat and glowered. “Good. Then one of them is yours.”

“I’m driving,” Hongjoong replied, then buckled himself in to make his point.

“I’m not arguing about this, Mr. Kim,” Detective Park said.

“Good, because neither am I.” Hongjoong reached above his head and pressed the series of buttons that would seal the cockpit. The door swung inwards and beeped placidly. The vents came on with a soft hum.

“_I_ am the leader of this mission—”

“Sit down before I start driving without you strapped in.”

“I won’t allow you to waste any more time—”

“Then _sit down,_” Hongjoong knocked the hand off the back of his chair and connected the communications channel. Before Detective Park could say another word, the impound officer on duty connected the call. It took a sharp look from Hongjoong for Detective Park to start speaking.

“Detective Park Hyojong, badge 31562, reporting for airlock opening at 10:00 hours; departing from impound airlock six,” Detective Park said, glaring at Hongjoong as he spoke.

“Copy, airlock opening in three. Prepare for departure.”

Hongjoong double checked the systems. The heads-up display on old Chargers were limited, but the screens on the control panel were more than enough. Life supports were green, and the door seal was solid. The engine temperature was a little low, but it was to be expected. The Charger probably hadn’t run in quite sometime. He’d take care not to push it too hard.

With the communications channel still open, Detective Park could no longer argue with him over seating arrangements. Instead, he gestured Mingi out of his seat and sent him to the pull-down in the back. Mingi didn’t protest, but Hongjoong could see his nervous expression in the reflection on the cockpit window. Detective Park took great pleasure in knocking his knees against the back of Hongjoong’s seat despite there being plenty of room. Hongjoong inhaled slowly, and focused on the sterile scent of scrubbed air.

“Detective Park Hyojong, airlock opening in thirty seconds. All systems green?”

Hongjoong stuck his hands out in a thumbs up, but it didn’t stop Detective Park from standing up to check them himself.

“Systems green,” he reported, then sat back down. “Open airlock six.”

“Copy.”

The dust covering the airlock floor exploded outwards as it rushed into the Martian atmosphere. The sea of red slid open before his eyes, and Hongjoong killed the communications channel with a swipe of his finger. He toggled the throttle and pushed the helm forward. The speeder jolted from the impound hangar and shot in the direction of Noctis. Detective Park grunted as he was thrown back into his seat. Hongjoong hid a smile in the collar of his shirt.

The lunatic really hadn’t strapped himself in.

Nobody spoke until they were well outside the boundaries of Marineris. Halfway to Noctis, Hongjoong spun the helm and took them off the marked trails and eased off on his speed.

“Where are you going?” Detective Park asked, breaking the silence. “Labyrinthus is that way.”

“I know where it is,” Hongjoong replied. “In the cockpit video, it showed those speeders travelling west – so I’m going around Noctis and coming in from the east. It’ll be bumpy for awhile – my apologies.”

“You’re going to make this take far longer than necessary,” Detective Park growled.

“I thought you weren’t arguing, detective?”

“Get _out_ of that seat n—”

Hongjoong shoved the throttle forward, and there was a thud as Detective Park collapsed back into his chair.

“I was deployed to get us into the Ratway. I am doing my job, Detective.” Hongjoong said, not turning around to make sure the detective was alright.

“W-With all due respect, Detective,” Officer Jung spoke up. “He _does_ know more about this place. We _really_ should listen to him.”

“I’m not trusting a pirate with my life,” Detective Park snarled.

Hongjoong bit his tongue. He bit it hard enough that his eyes watered and blood welled up in his mouth. His hands gripped the wheel tight enough that his fingers turned white. _I am not a pirate_, he wanted to scream – but he kept it in. He breathed deep. He thought of Seonghwa. He thought of the stars burning placidly far above them. He kept his eyes on Mars. He watched a dust devil swirl in the distance.

“Then don’t,” Hongjoong finally said.

“Excuse me?” Detective Park began to stand once more, but a quick nudge of the throttle put him back down again.

“Don’t,” Hongjoong repeated. “Because you can’t trust a pirate with your life. They all betray you in the end. We don’t play by the rules, Detective. If you think I’ll lead you astray on this mission, you can take your crew and walk the Ratway alone.”

“Wait—” Mingi protested.

“Is that what you want, Detective?”

Detective Park squared his shoulders. “Yes.”

“Then, done.” Hongjoong said. He pushed the throttle forward just a little more. _Hubris_, Hongjoong thought tiredly.

“I’m not going in without him,” Mingi spoke up.

“You will do as you are told, Officer Song,” Detective Park retorted.

“You’re a fucking asshole.”

“That’s a write-up, Officer Song.”

“I don’t care. I’ll tell Chief Han you were unfit for this promotion and decided splitting up the recon team was your idea of leadership.”

Detective Park flushed. “Mr. Kim is being insubordinate and not following instruction—”

“He knows best. He’s been here before. We haven’t. Let him get us in and out, god damn it.”

“Stop arguing,” Hongjoong interrupted. “We’re on the flight path. If one of them tries to communicate, let me do the talking. I’ll get us in, and then we can yell at each other all we want if it helps get this mission done. Otherwise, shut up.”

“Stop giving orders. You are _not_ in charge.”

“Mmhmm,” Hongjoong hummed, then set his sights on the distant hill. It was a different angle from the one he’d seen in the cockpit recorder, but he knew it was the same one. Detective Park had finally fallen silent, but Mingi and Officer Jung were exchanging nervous glances in the back. Hongjoong’s stomach twisted viciously. They were scared, and there was very little he could do about it.

The RADAR jammer came active not far from the hill near Labyrinthus. The ragged edges of the ancient land formation looked like giant cracks in the planet’s surface. Hongjoong quickly swept the scanner to find out where the signal was coming from and turned the nose towards it. A moment later, they were hit with a targeting laser, and several red dots appeared on the HUD.

“Turn around,” Detective Park ordered.

“They’re bluffing,” Hongjoong replied, then sent a comm request towards the source of the laser. They picked up with a static-filled crackle.

“Nugesta?” A voice answered.

Behind him, Detective Park opened his mouth. Hongjoong held up a hand.

“Es my. Three crew don Captain Park. Me pilot Pan.” Hongjoong replied.

“Ah, tu new?” The pirate laughed. All of the red dots covering the HUD vanished, save for one. “Elysium fir na?”

Hongjoong froze. Behind him, Detective Park dropped his hand terminal. It landed with a metallic clatter.   
“Ye, Elysium,” Hongjoong replied, his heart pounding. “Loot run. Now none. Have coin.”

“Sa, sa, es cha. Lock ready; Follow.”

A set of coordinates appeared on his display. He inputted them into the navigator and spun the helm towards the new beacon. It led down a steady incline towards the heart of Labyrinthus.

“Gomap,” Hongjoong said.

“Aye.”

The channel ended, and the silence sank into his bones. He disabled the communicator – just in case – and let the autopilot take over until his hands stopped trembling.

“Did...Did I hear that right?” Officer Jung spoke up. “He...He said ‘Elysium’?”

“He did,” Hongjoong said numbly. “He asked if we were _from_ Elysium.”

“What did you tell him?” Detective Park asked.

“I told him we were,” Hongjoong replied. “And that we were getting supplies. He let us in.”

“Christ,” Officer Jung buried his face in his hands. “My brother is quarantined there—I thought...the disease...”

Just over Martian year ago, the first report of a mysterious illness emerged from the Elysium Dome. A woman had sickened inside of her workplace, and collapsed on her way to the nurse. By the time paramedics arrived to pronounce her dead, two more cases had appeared in the local hospital.

Six more were found dead the next morning, all from the same symptoms.

The sickness spread rapidly, and killed even faster. Doctors were collapsing at their workbenches before test results could be determined and dying hours afterwards of an unidentified pathogen that left them bleeding from their orifices. External labs observed the symptoms and found the data reminiscent of Ebola – an Earth-based virus that caused hemorrhagic fever. Never before had it been seen on the surface of Mars. Hospitals had been unprepared for it and overwhelmed. Doctors were sent from every available city to collect samples and assist Elysium, but mere days after their arrival, they too succumbed.

While Elysium cried for help, the Martian Prime Minister made the controversial decision to put the city on lockdown, and disable all in and outbound trams and taxis effective immediately. Survivors were left to fend for themselves. Some managed to evade the pathogen inside of their homes, surviving off bottled water and dried food rations. Most perished in the fallout. Officials who survived the outbreak were reporting a latency in cases as of nineteen months ago, but the pathogen, still unknown, was very much active within Elysium’s borders, and recommended the quarantine remain in place.

But now that the pirate had mentioned the city, Hongjoong was beginning to understand – and the thought left him frightened.

During the peak of the outbreak, Hongjoong had seen Seonghwa up late into the night, researching dozens of known viral infections that could’ve caused it. After the third night catching him, Hongjoong had stopped pretending to be asleep and brought him a cup of tea. Then, Seonghwa admitted that he had no idea what was causing the illness – nobody did. The few samples Marineris had managed to get a hold of contained no viral DNA. The samples had been so fragile that they couldn’t isolate a single genetic protein – not even the ones of the people they had come from.

Seonghwa had confessed to Hongjoong with a wild terror in his eyes that it might not have been a virus, but something man-made. Something toxic could’ve leaked into Elysium’s life support system, but without more samples, Seonghwa wouldn’t be able to figure out what. His theory was backed up by the fact that no other dome had been infected despite transit being operational until the quarantine, and no sign of the pathogen was spotted outside of Elysium. A handful had been quarantined for mild flu-like symptoms in other hospitals, but nobody who came into contact with them became sickened. Meanwhile, doctors were going into Elysium, and never coming back alive.

And now, pirates were coming out of Elysium often enough that it was an outbound destination – and supply runs were frequent enough that Hongjoong had been able to lie about it.

“Mr. Kim, explain,” Detective Park ordered, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“How would I know?” Hongjoong finally turned around. “I know as much as you do. I didn’t even _consider_ that pirates took it.”

“You think they have it?”

“Considering they accepted my ‘loot run’ excuse, yes,” Hongjoong grimaced.

“This is bad,” Officer Jung said. “We have to tell the Chief.”

“We can’t,” Hongjoong massaged his forehead. “When we’re this close, any outbound communications will go through their networks. They’ll see that you’ve sent something to Marineris. We have to proceed as planned. At best, we get in, find the closest airlocks, mark them, and get out before they realize who we are.”

“We complete the mission,” Detective Park said, agreeing for once. “I don’t want to have to come back here.”

“Then, we need Hongjoong,” Mingi spoke up. “He speaks their language. I didn’t even know they _had_ a language.”

“I agree,” Officer Jung concurred. “I know you don’t trust him, but we _need_ him.”

Detective Park glowered at the back of his head. Hongjoong silently hoped he would be smart about it – if he would actually swallow some of his idiotic pride and accept that trusting a pirate was the only answer.

But Detective Park didn’t speak. He stared out the cockpit window as Hongjoong took control of the helm once more and steered them through the boulder-strewn corridors of Noctis Labyrinthus. The beacon pinged the exact coordinates of the airlock, and Hongjoong hoped Detective Park had the sense to take note of it.

The lock was cleverly hidden between two mismatched boulders and just under an overhang of rock. Hongjoong called in his arrival, and the pirate let them in without a second thought. As the airlock closed behind them, Hongjoong killed the Charger’s engine and sat back. He avoided looking for as long as possible. He fidgeted with his seatbelt, smoothed he heavier wrinkles from his clothes, and focused on the rising external air temperature.

Then, he allowed himself to look through the cockpit window.

The airlock was hideous. None of the rugged steel walls were painted, and every wire and ventilation duct were exposed to the eyes. Functionality was a priority in the Ratway. It was a priority among most pirate crews. Vanity was a foolish notion, and any pirate that sacrificed functionality for visuality were swiftly bled from the population in a textbook example of natural selection. Here and there, splotches of colour caught the eye where a hasty patch job had used a different material, or where a quick round of electrical or duct tape had been used to patch a small crack or fray that wasn’t worth expending resources to repair just yet. It was a common and dangerous practice – one Hongjoong had never utilized on board his own ship unless he was desperate. It worked in a pinch, and the tape and improvised seals would hold long enough for the proper repairs to arrive. But even then, when it came to electrical systems, he preferred to cut the frayed wire out and rejoin the loose ends with a marette until he could replace it entirely. Electrical fires were one of the most common causes of death for pirates, and Hongjoong never took any chances.

“Is this thing _safe_?” Officer Jung whispered, staring out at the inside of the airlock.

“It works like it’s supposed to,” Hongjoong replied. “But that’s about it.”

An alarm in the cockpit beeped, announcing that it was safe to leave. Hongjoong set the Charger on standby and got to his feet.

“Am I in, or am I out, Detective?” Hongjoong asked, his hand on the cockpit door.

Mingi and Officer Jung stared him down. A bead of sweat formed on Detective Park’s brow.

“I...permit his assistance,” Detective Park finally said.

Hongjoong nodded silently. He resisted the urge to make a snarky quip – _the smartest thing you’ve said all day_. But instead, he twisted the cockpit door’s handle and pushed it open.

Metal. Sewage. Garbage. And the distinct tang of Martian dust. Hongjoong knew it well. The smells of the Ratway were nostalgic, and unpleasant. He did his best to ignore the nauseating coil in his stomach as he shoved the Charger’s cockpit door closed. To their right, the Ratway’s internal airlock hissed open. A skinny man with bald patches stepped inside. He grinned with three teeth.

“Tu find,” the pirate said. “Me gatekeeper. Nugesta?”

“Me Pan. Pilot don Captain Park. Hir look.” Hongjoong pointed to Detective Park. “Ner talk. Now throat gone. Me for him.”

“Sa, sa. Tu dock, long for?”

“Ten long.”

“Aye,” the gatekeeper said. “Thirty, na?”

“Ye,” Hongjoong replied, and pulled out his hand terminal. He scanned the code on the gatekeeper’s own terminal and transferred him the credits. It appeared in his bank statement as a payment to _MFR Incorporated._ Hongjoong made a mental note to warn the police and change all of his banking information as soon as he got home just in case the scan had opened a back door to his account. He also had a shared account with Seonghwa, but he didn’t want to put his personal one at any more risk than was necessary.

“Gomap,” the gatekeeper said, then gestured to the doorway to welcome them inside.

“Aye,” Hongjoong said, then stood back to wait for Detective Park to take the lead. When he didn’t move right away, Hongjoong raised an eyebrow at him. He flushed, and began to walk towards the door. The gatekeeper watched them go with a muted smile.

“What did you say about me?” Detective Park asked when the airlock door had closed behind them.

“I told them you lost your ability to talk and that was why I, a mere pilot, was speaking for the captain,” Hongjoong replied. “Your collared shirt made a great cover. Keep it buttoned. You’re welcome.”

“And he _bought it_?” Officer Jung asked incredulously. “How often do pirates get hurt like that?”

“No more questions,” Hongjoong interrupted. “Let’s get this mission done and get out. We have ten hours – let’s make them last.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNINGS (Read the Tags!!!)**
> 
> Also, ** TRUST ME ** <3
> 
> If you're worried about the contents of this chapter, feel free to DM me @thatstarlitsky on Twitter for spoilers.

The corridors leading from the airlocks weren’t numbered – which meant Hongjoong had to count hallways. Pirates in the past had scratched arrows on the steel walls, pointing towards the Ratway’s main hub, but many of the branching corridors leading to other airlocks maintained the mazelike structure of a tree branch. Detective Park wanted to go down each one to find the coordinates of the airlocks, but after the fourth one, Hongjoong had to usher them out. Every airlock had a gatekeeper, and there were only so many times he could lie about getting lost. He supposed the real blessing was that Detective Park didn’t argue with him.

As the arrows grew more frequent and more vivid, Hongjoong began to hear the sounds of the Ratway. They were as subtle as the sound of the wind, or the trickle of water through a pipe. Hongjoong only knew what he was hearing because he knew what to listen for. The officers were probably expecting a rowdy tavern, where men were getting blitzed on moonshine and gambling away their illicit earnings. When the corridor finally broadened into the Ratway, Hongjoong’s sickening nostalgia became nearly unbearable.

Old ventilation filters hissed from overuse, and the fans rumbled and whined as they begged for fresh motor parts. Exposed wires lay in eight colours over their heads, some as thin as his thumb, but others concealed in conduit thicker than his thigh. The waterpipes were the cleanest, but a small faucet was occasionally tapped directly into it, and men were washing their faces and beards in the trickles. Hongjoong watched one of them drink with his hands, and remembered the metallic, ashy flavor of cheaply filtered water. The water was safe to drink. It wouldn’t make anyone sick. That was all that mattered down here.

The people were a ragtag mix of grungy and neat – the Ratway carried all types. For the most part, people were quiet. They spoke in hushed tones to prevent eavesdroppers. Some of the accents and intonations went misunderstood even by Hongjoong’s trained ears. Each crew tended to have their own polyglot and only spoke the universal pirate’s cant at bargaining tables.

The scrubbed steel beneath their feet clinked beneath their shoes and caught the attention of nearby pirates. Their faces were unfamiliar, and likely far too clean to pass as locals. Hongjoong made an effort to avoid prolonged, direct eye-contact with them and prayed the officers were following his lead. He didn’t dare look back and check.

The Ratway’s hallway broadened into the central, underground hub. Here, the quiet chatter rose to a dull roar, and sounds and smells were thrown into a melting pot so intense, the only product was noise and stench. Nothing was identifiable. People dickered at trading stands, and a thousand feet romped up and down the stairs leading up three levels. The buzz of electric lighting was a near subliminal hum beneath it all; like the chanter in a bagpipe. Near the ceiling, a lamp flickered and dumped sparks down onto the floor. Someone was already hanging down from a harness trying to fix it.

At the center, on a podium, a man stood with a naked woman’s bound wrists in his hand. She was on her knees with her head bowed; the fight had left her. Her captor was shouting over the ever-shifting din, auctioning her off to the highest bidder. Hongjoong looked away as bile rose in his throat. Human trafficking was one of the easiest methods of making money as a pirate. Hongjoong had always done his best to look away when news reported missing young women – because he knew where many of them had gone. He knew they would never be seen again, and there was nothing he, nor anyone else, could do about it.

He focused instead on one of the other hallways leading into another portion of the Ratway. He didn’t know if it would take them to more airlocks, or if it would just lead them through another infuriating maze of tunnels. Hongjoong knew the central circle well – and he knew which corridor led to the old docks at Port Aries – but he had never been down most of the other tunnels. He’d had no need to. The central circle was all pirates really needed to get by. They came in, bought and sold, and got out. Unless they had lost their crew or owned a shop, no pirate stayed in the Ratway longer than a day at most.

Detective Park stopped him with a hand on his sleeve. Hongjoong hesitated before ducking his head into the huddle.

“We should split up,” Detective Park said in an almost inaudible whisper.

“No,” Hongjoong said immediately. “We can’t. It’s better that we stick together.”

Detective Park frowned. “How much longer is this going to take?”

“Awhile,” Hongjoong admitted. “Splitting up would speed things up, but if any of us run into trouble, we’ll have no way to help. And if we don’t all get back to the speeder before our docking fee runs out, we’ll have to leave someone behind.”

Detective Park grimaced.

“If we don’t want to stay the ten hours, we can do one more section and then get back to the speeder,” Hongjoong said. “We already have _plenty_.” He hoped Detective Park would take the hint. They were the only non-pirates who knew about Elysium. And, now that they knew the general location of the Labyrinthus airlocks, there was a lot of damage a well-timed strike could do to the pirate population on Mars.

“We’re not going back,” Detective Park finally said with a shake of his head. “We stay the ten hours.”

Hongjoong chewed his lip. He really _didn’t_ want to stay the full ten hours. But he nodded in agreement. “Okay.”

Detective Park raised an eyebrow; apparently, he’d expected Hongjoong to argue. Then, he nodded as well.

“Let’s go,” he said, then pointed down the nearest hallway.

It was a broad corridor, filled with market stalls. Hongjoong knew it well, though he’d never been down the hall far enough to lose sight of the central circle. This particular corridor primarily sold food ranging from dubious to a pirate’s equivalent of ‘gourmet’, and an assortment of weaponry and motor parts. Here, things were noisier. Hongjoong watched a man down a shot of a blue tinted liquor that wouldn’t be legal above the surface. He slumped over the table with a drunken giggle. A knife was partially concealed in the back of his trousers, visible now because his shirt had pulled up. Hongjoong paused. He scanned the crowd. Nobody but two of the three officers were looking.

He swiped the knife and stowed it beneath his shirt in a single motion. The drunken pirate didn’t even twitch aside from letting out another giggle. He scratched his ass where the knife had been and didn’t notice what was missing. His head thumped against the table again as he sighed.

Detective Park stared at him. Hongjoong wasn’t surprised he’d noticed. Mingi had seen it too and was hiding a smile. Officer Jung was too busy staring at two pirates playing Russian roulette. A jeering crowd was forming, and people were cheering like it was a sports game.

“Why are they playing that?” Officer Jung asked as one of them spun the chamber with a shaking hand and pointed at their temple and pulling the trigger. It clicked with no consequence.

“Justice,” Hongjoong said tiredly. He tried not to watch, but there was something so sickening; so mind-numbingly thrilling about wondering whether or not someone was about to die that drew his attention. He saw Mingi turn to look and used that as his distraction. He gently pressed a hand to the side of the officer’s head and forced him to look away. Just in time, too – the gun went off with a loud _bang_ and the crowd roared. Mingi flinched. Officer Jung retched.

“What kind of justice is that?” He asked.

“When two or more members of a crew cause enough trouble, the rest of the crew can vote in a trial, and sometimes, _that_ is their sentence,” Hongjoong said. He clutched the knife beneath his shirt a little tighter. “Ten rounds, the gun gets passed back and forth. If it goes off, that’s the execution, and the other person gets off. If it doesn’t, they both go free.”

“That’s sick,” Officer Jung swallowed.

“It’s how things work.”

The officers didn’t say a word. Hongjoong was glad for it. It was hard enough to keep his breathing steady when everything around him was reminding him of the past – of things better left forgotten. He distracted himself by slipping the knife he’d stolen into the strap on the inside of his waistband. The handle poked out just high enough that Hongjoong could unsheathe it in a second of he needed to. It was a pitiful weapon considering everyone else had guns, but Hongjoong felt better now that he was armed.

The wide corridor only seemed to get longer with each step they took. They passed through two separate bulkheads with open airlocks and a scattering of smaller doors on the tunnel’s sides that were being guarded. Detective Park tried to get Hongjoong to ask around to find out where the doors lead to, but he refused. Pirates didn’t go anywhere they didn’t have business going to. Many doors in the Ratway were on a need to know basis. It would arouse too much suspicion.

Detective Park’s frustration built when the corridor led to a dead end with a locked bulkhead. The red light on the panel warned of an environmental hazard on the other side. Hongjoong wondered if it was because they were constructing a new section, or if something had failed on the other side. Down here, both were equally as likely.

“We are getting _nowhere_,” Detective Park hissed as he turned back towards Hongjoong. “And _you_ aren’t being helpful.”

“I’ve told you,” Hongjoong tried to keep his voice low. “Nobody knows where all of the airlocks are. We know a few of the ones in Labyrinthus, and we know about Elysium. Even if we don’t find the rest, I think we have enough intel to satisfy Mars.”

Something feral sparked in Detective Park’s eyes. Hongjoong’s lips thinned. _Hubris_, he thought with a sickening sense of dread.

“_Everything_ relies on us finding these airlocks,” Detective Park said. “If we don’t find them all, this mission will be a waste of time and resources—”

“Everything relies on it?” Hongjoong asked, “or are _you_ just hoping for a medal?”

Detective Park flushed crimson. “I should’ve left you on the speeder.”

“I can go back anytime. Just say the word,” Hongjoong challenged. “_Captain_.”

Detective Park’s nostrils flared.

“Let’s...calm down,” Mingi tried to reason, but his voice was shaking, and he flinched when Detective Park shot him a vicious glare. Officer Jung turned away and began to fidget.

“We need _results_, Mr. Kim,” Detective Park said, as though Hongjoong didn’t already know.

“And we’re not getting anything standing here arguing,” Hongjoong gestured back down the hall.

“Exactly. Go find out what’s behind those doors we passed.”

“Brothels, motels, drug dens, and _maybe_ a few elevators leading to airlocks,” Hongjoong sneered. “Invitation only. That’s why they’re guarded.”

“People are staring,” Officer Jung spoke up.

“Time to go, then,” Hongjoong said and pushed past Detective Park. He heard the sounds of one pair of feet following him – then the other two pairs jogging to catch up. Hongjoong tried to keep his expression level, but he knew his anger must’ve been showing on his face. A few people snuck a glance and looked away. They whispered behind their hands. One of them pointed for the briefest of seconds. Hongjoong only caught it because he knew the tricks for subtle directing. He began to feel a familiar, sickening tightness in his stomach.

When he had been constantly surrounded by potential danger, Hongjoong had learned to trust his instincts. While some might call it paranoia, or even anxiety, Hongjoong believed it was foolish to ignore that ‘gut feeling’, as Seonghwa, or anyone from civilization might call it. Pirates, and Hongjoong, just called it a ‘sense’.

Right now, he had a sense. It made him double-check the crowd. More and more, he spotted eyes lingering on him before darting away. He resisted the urge to grip his hidden knife and attempted to paint a picture of the utmost calm. He thought of the whistling of a kettle – of a straight line the steam travelled along as it hissed.

Next to one of the market stalls, a shock of blonde hair stood out like chalk on a blackboard. It was vivid and bright, and it immediately caught his eye. The familiarity of it had his breath catching. He stood next to a muscular man with a sleeve tattoo who was turning a handgun over in his hands to check for flaws. The blonde man watched for a few moments before he turned his head to look elsewhere.

Hongjoong felt his knees go weak. Even from a distance, he could see the red birthmark on his temple. His skin was as pale as human skin could go from decades living without constant exposure to proper sunlight. A pale hand ran through his blonde hair, and something in Hongjoong’s chest pulled tight and painful. He remembered the way those slender hands had punched him in the face. The way those hands stroked his hair with reverence in the engine room of the Nautilus. The way those hands had worked next to his own; held back his hair when he was sick; had gotten bloody from days he had struck instead of letting Hongjoong take a hit. He remembered cleaning them; stitching them; holding them – Hongjoong remembered holding his body against his in his bunkroom.

The flood of memories forced his pace to slow. He didn’t come out of it until Detective Park marched past him and knocked his shoulder in the process. He shook himself out of it and caught him on the shoulder. Detective Park froze, then turned towards him with a scandalized glare.

“We need to leave,” Hongjoong whispered.

“We aren’t going _anywhere_—”

“The Blackwings are here,” Hongjoong said, cutting him off. “We need to leave.”

Detective Park rolled his eyes and turned away.

“I’m begging you,” he pleaded. “_Trust me_.”

“Your enemies being here are no concern of mine,” Detective Park growled. “_Let’s go_.”

Hongjoong’s rage burned along his skin. He didn’t dare sneak a glance back towards the shop stall. He knew with near certainty that if the blonde man didn’t know he was here, the whispers would soon reach him. Captain Hongjoong had been infamous. He might’ve looked older now, and his hair had been chopped short, but he knew someone who looked just right would recognize him.

Detective Park felt no fear. He led them down the next hallway, and Hongjoong was torn between agreeing to the split up and abandoning Detective Park and Officer Jung while he took Mingi back to the speeder. He tried to shake it off. Something warm gripped his wrist, and he startled slightly. It was Mingi. His hand was large, and Hongjoong tried to take comfort in it. He gripped his hand and squeezed it tightly. Then, he let go.

If his enemies found him, he didn’t want Mingi to be potentially used as leverage. He’d rather be their only target. The image of Seonghwa lying alone in their bed sobbing over his death forced itself into his mind. He pushed the thought out. Whistling kettle. Straight line. He took a breath and checked the timer. Eight hours remained. Hongjoong prayed he’d survive them.

They had been walking for ten minutes when a door on their left swung open. Hongjoong jolted – Detective Park turned his head and tried to keep walking. He was cut off by a long arm holding a knife. Four others, two on either side of their aggressor, formed a perfect blockade. Each one had a gun strapped to his hip.

“How ba’ arrêter,” the man said, brandishing the knife towards Detective Park and forcing him back. “Nugesta?”

Detective Park swallowed, then looked behind them for an escape. Four more men were approaching from behind. Hongjoong realized with a flurry of panic that one of them was the blonde man.

Detective Park straightened himself and lifted his chin. “Captain Park,” he said, as though his mere name carried threat. Hongjoong didn’t know whether he was impressed with the fact that the detective had connected the dots and figured out what ‘nugesta’ meant.

“Ah, tu crew?” The man grinned and made a gesture with his knife. His eyes lingered on Hongjoong for a moment. His incisors glinted like fangs. “Me Captain Seungri.”

“What do you want?” Detective Park demanded.

While the abrupt shift out of pirate’s cant might’ve raised suspicion – and rightly so – Captain Seungri only frowned briefly in confusion before tilting his head.

“You have snake in tu crew, Captain Park,” Seungri said. His accent was thick, and he spoke common as though he had molasses on his tongue.

Detective Park turned. His eyes didn’t fail to land on Hongjoong. His expression was cold and unwavering. He didn’t even look afraid.

“Captain Hongjoong,” Seungri said with a chilly grin. “Been look for you, na?”

Hongjoong didn’t respond. He just tried to imagine the whistling kettle and the straight line. He tried to keep his heart from racing; tried to keep himself from feeling fear.

“Captain Hongjoong,” Seungri said with an almost wistful sigh. “Favourite of Captain Maddox, turn snake. He be ashamed of you.”

Hongjoong grimaced. “He wouldn’t be,” he said, and he was certain of such a thing.

“Would Yeosang agree?”

Hongjoong sucked in a breath. Behind him, the blonde man stiffened and fidgeted with the hem of his oversized shirt. For the first time in six years, Hongjoong made eye contact with him and felt the ache of a wound he had thought long healed.

In six years, Yeosang hadn’t changed much. He still had blonde hair, and vivid grey eyes, but his budding laugh lines had faded. His birthmark, as bright as ever on his pale skin, cupped the corner of his eye like a permanent brand. Hongjoong had always though it pretty and unique, but it was the reason Yeosang had found himself alone long ago. Someone had wanted a visually perfect child, and Yeosang was too hideous in their eyes.

Though he’d been prompted by his Captain, Yeosang didn’t answer. Hongjoong knew it was because they both knew the truth. As a pirate inching towards his forties, Captain Maddox had been bordering on mythological. His salt and pepper hair made him look far older than he was, and wherever Captain Maddox went, reverent eyes followed. He had taught them everything he knew, and also told them that if the opportunity ever came, to leave the life instead of wasting away in the void of space. They were too young, and he was too old.

When he finally met his end into his ship’s engine room to dump the core inside a malfunctioning reactor, he had been unable to walk, even in Luna’s one-sixth gravity. Atrophy had wasted his body, and radiation poisoning finished him off. As mutiny followed over who would be the next Captain of the KQ, Yeosang and Hongjoong snuck away to Luna’s shipyard and stolen the Nautilus. In the grief and confusion that had followed, they’d failed to properly prepare and nearly starved to death on their way to Ceres. It was the first time Hongjoong had ever gotten lucky.

“Captain Maddox’s other son...little Yeosang,” Seungri grinned. His fingers flexed next to one of his pockets. “I surprised when he come and said _Captain Hongjoong_ snaked. Port Aries lost. It was bad day, na? But I got little Yeosang. He good pirate. Not like you.”

Next to him, Mingi shifted. Hongjoong glanced back – the muscular man with the sleeve tattoo had started to inch closer. He backed away as Mingi stood close to him, watching his back. Hongjoong felt a swell of gratitude, but also fear. He would never forgive himself if Mingi got hurt because of him.

Detective Park’s hand was hovering threateningly over his gun. “That’s all you want?” He asked. “Just Hongjoong?”

“There will be justice for snakes,” Seungri said with a crooked smile.

“Take him, then,” Detective Park said and stepped aside.

“What—No!” Mingi protested. He grabbed Hongjoong’s arm and held onto it.

Seungri laughed, then stepped forward. Mingi made a small noise and fumbled with his holster. His hand was shaking too badly to get a proper thumbprint reading. Hongjoong knocked his hand away from his pistol and shook his head.

“What surprise,” Seungri said. “The Captain give up his crew. Are you hoping I let the rest go?”

Detective Park swallowed thickly. His hand shifted down to his pistol in warning. “I am warning you; I’m armed.”

Seungri threw back his head and laughed. It was cold – it echoed through the Ratway like the solid strike of an anvil. It was wild and cruel. Detective Park frowned, and Mingi was fidgeting with the front of his belt in an effort to keep his hands away from his pistol. Officer Jung was biting his lip as he alternated his gaze between Detective Park, and Captain Seungri.

“Ah...He be armed,” Seungri sighed wistfully when he caught his breath. He tilted his head to the side once more and studied Detective Park. “A Captain’s first priority be his crew...Is Captain think of protecting himself only. You are no Captain. You are liar. I hate liars.”

Seungri’s hand moved towards his pocket.

“_NO!_” Hongjoong shouted, just before the gun went off.

Detective Park sputtered and fell backwards. Officer Jung shouted and caught him just before he hit the floor. Blood was spurting out of a gaping hole in his chest – a hole he was trying to cover with his hands. His perfect white shirt had turned stark crimson. In Seungri’s hand, the smoking gun that had been hidden in his pocket mere seconds before.

Hongjoong didn’t think. He fell next to the wounded detective.

“You care needlessly,” Seungri said, but stepped back to allow them the courtesy of seeing to their injured crew. “He would give you up to save his life.”

Hongjoong ignored him. He helped Officer Jung roll Detective Park onto his side to help him breathe. It wasn’t working. Detective Park was choking as blood oozed from the corner of his mouth. His life was pooling beneath him on the floor, even as both of his hands pressed against the wound to hold it in. The sight – the smell – Hongjoong felt dizzy; he felt nauseous, and his vision went dark around the edges. Detective Park was dying.

_I told you; I warned you,_ Hongjoong wanted to shout – he wanted to scream and shake the dying man until he understood that this was what he’d been trying to prevent. But Hongjoong said nothing. He reached for one of Detective Park’s hands and held it tightly. His fingers were already growing cold. When a man was dying, he didn’t want to hear about how it could’ve been prevented. When a man was dying, there was only one thing that was important.

Hongjoong hated Detective Park. He hated everything about him. But he didn’t hate him enough that he would let him die alone. No man, not even Detective Park, deserved his final moments without someone by his side. Officer Jung was in shock. His hands were trembling on Detective Park’s shoulder as he held him in a recovery position. Mingi was clutching his stomach and mouth as tears ran down his face.

Detective Park let go of his chest. His hand trembled as he pressed his thumb to the ID scanner and released his gun from the holster. It slipped free and clattered on the floor next to his hip. By the time Hongjoong understood why and looked back at the Detective’s eyes, he was already slipping away.

Hongjoong pressed his lips to his temple, and said the one blessing he truly believed in.

“May the stars guide you home,” he whispered.

Detective Park breathed his last.

\--

Hongjoong was only dimly aware of the presence of the Blackwings around him. His pants were soaked with blood, and his fingers were sticky. To his right, Seungri watched with his pistol hanging loose at his side. He had a filthy smile on his face as he stared down at the Detective’s body. He’d taken great pleasure in ending his life. Hongjoong realized he was wrong about hatred. What he felt towards Detective Park hadn’t been hate; merely frustration. What he felt towards Seungri on the other hand, was complete and utter loathing.

Hongjoong wiped the blood onto his shirt and gently closed Detective Park’s eyes. Then, he carefully stowed the pistol beneath his shirt next to the knife.

“Whatever you want,” Hongjoong said, “I want you to allow us to take our late Captain Park back to our ship.”

“I am no doffer, Captain Hongjoong,” Seungri scoffed. “You will disappear just as before.”

He realized that’s what he was now. With Detective Park dead, they had no mission leader. By default, Hongjoong – the one who knew the most about where they were – was the Captain. He knew Detective Park would’ve probably chosen Officer Jung, but the officer was barely keeping himself together. That left Hongjoong to take the lead. The mantle of Captain was thick, heavy and familiar. He took a breath. He felt that strength and authority rise up in his chest. He rose to his feet.

“Then,” he said. “Allow my crew to take our late Captain back to the ship, and I will remain here.”

“Hongjoong, _no_,” Mingi said.

“They will leave this place,” Hongjoong said, his eyes still on Seungri. “And they will give him his proper rites.”

“I knew you were smart man,” Seungri said with a grin. “Jongho.”

A hand grabbed his shirt from behind. He was yanked backwards against a broad, muscular chest. The tattooed arm wrapped around his stomach like an iron pipe. A second hand gripped his throat. It squeezed, and Hongjoong choked as he gripped the fingers.

“Don’t kill, Jongho,” Seungri said. “I make sure he _feels_ it. Others also want a chance.”

Hongjoong coughed as the hand released his throat. “Now, you let my crew go.”

“_Hongjoong_—” Mingi protested.

“Both of you, take him back to the speeder,” Hongjoong ordered. “Down this hall, and take the second tunnel to your right. Just keep walking, and don’t look back.”

Officer Jung was shaking as he began to lift Detective Park’s lifeless body off the floor. “W-What about you?”

“I’ll catch up,” Hongjoong said, but he didn’t believe he would. This was the end of the line for him. He tried not to think of Seonghwa, but his gently smiling face slid back into the forefront of his memory. He watched it slip into a broken frown – tears fell like pearls – and Hongjoong heard the echo of his promise _‘I’ll come home’_.

_My luck’s run out, little bird,_ Hongjoong thought. But at least he could save the other two. At least Mingi could return to the surface and call his lover to Mars. At least Officer Jung could get home to any family he had and deliver the information they’d gathered.

“I’m not leaving you,” Mingi said.

“You are,” Hongjoong demanded. “_Go,_ Mingi.”

“Come on,” Officer Jung said, gesturing down the hall. He looked hesitant as he glanced at Hongjoong. But his need to protect his own life now that he knew these pirates were capable of murder was overriding any desire to help Hongjoong.

Mingi had none of that instinct.

“I’m not leaving you,” Mingi said again, and finally managed to unlatch his pistol.

“Damn it, _LEAVE!_” Hongjoong shouted.

“No,” Mingi shook his head.

Officer Jung grimaced, then turned and ran down the hall. Hongjoong listened to his retreating footsteps and fought down the nausea.

One of Seungri’s men approached Mingi. The officer raised his gun, but it was knocked from his hand with a quick swipe. Hongjoong winced as his arm was twisted behind his back. Mingi barely made a sound, though his pained expression betrayed him.

“Come,” Seungri said, then beckoned the crew. “Wer show snake and last of loyal crew.”

Hongjoong grimaced at the handful of hoots that echoed through the tunnel. The man holding him – Jongho, he recalled – adjusted his grip and pulled Hongjoong’s arms behind his back. He held his wrists and pushed him forward. At Hongjoong’s left, he saw a flash of shaggy blonde hair, and knew Yeosang was close by.

Whispers had started in the central circle. The gunshot had likely been heard by half of the Ratway, and Officer Jung rushing by with a body had started rumours. All eyes were on them as Seungri’s crew paraded them in front of his allies.

“Look, see!” Seungri shouted. “Nur Port Aries snake! Captain Hongjoong!”

The whispers grew to a dull roar. Hongjoong felt his knees begin to shake. Jongho’s grip on his wrists kept him upright.

“Is be snake crew,” Seungri said, and Mingi was shoved forward. “Wer punish two.”

“Nur hurt him,” Hongjoong begged.

Seungri looked at him and laughed. “You take all?”

“Aye,” Hongjoong said.

Seungri laughed again. Then, he pulled Hongjoong out of Jongho’s grip and threw him onto the floor. He landed hard enough that his elbow struck metal. His fingertips went numb.

“LOOK, SEE!” Seungri shouted. “Captain Hongjoong take all! Wer punish, ner kill!”

“Hongjoong!” Mingi shouted, and struggled against his captor’s grip. His arm was pulled more tightly against his back. Mingi cried out this time and fell to his knees.

The first strike came from the left before Hongjoong could properly get to his feet. Knocked off balance, he fell into another man and was almost immediately left defenseless once more. With his arms behind his back, he could only watch as pirates began to line up with wicked grins. Hongjoong braced himself. He closed his eyes.

The second fist struck his gut and made him gag. He third cuffed him in the side of the head. His neck ached. His body hurt more with every strike. True to the pirate’s code of justice, they hit places that wouldn’t be lethal, but would be just as painful as the last. Hongjoong fought not to scream; not to beg as one by one, each pirate took a swing. His ears were ringing, and Mingi was screaming – and somehow, that hurt worse than the throbbing bruise his body had become. But he endured, because if he didn’t, Mingi would be hit too.

His head was yanked back by his hair. His heart skipped and then stopped. Yeosang’s expression was unreadable. Hongjoong barely flinched when he backhanded him across the face and forced him to his knees. His grip on Hongjoong’s hair tightened painfully. He felt a few strands come loose.

“I’ll never forgive you, you fucking bastard,” Yeosang whispered in his ear.

“I won’t ask you to,” Hongjoong gagged. He tasted blood on his tongue. “But my offer still stands.”

Yeosang winced at that. “Keep your shitty promises to yourself.”

Then, he spat. Hongjoong winced and made no move to wipe it off his face. “My contact ends with a six now,” he said.

“Fuck you.” Yeosang kicked him this time. His foot clipped his side and Hongjoong felt the burning, painful lance of a fractured rib. He swallowed his whimper.

Only two more pirates followed, and the last one was Seungri himself. He delivered a punch so brutal, Hongjoong bent over and retched bile. The hands on his wrist finally let go. Mingi’s sobs echoed over the laughter.

“Now you die,” Seungri said, then yanked him back up by his hair. Hongjoong was in so much pain he didn’t even feel it. “Tables for you.”

“No,” Hongjoong rasped.

Seungri laughed, and four pirates dropped a table and two chairs down next to him. Mingi was shoved into one and held down by his shoulders. Hongjoong had to be lifted into the other. He could barely sit up straight. He rubbed the blood off his lip with his wrist and felt glad he didn’t have a mirror. His left eye was already swollen shut. Mingi winced and began to cry as he saw Hongjoong’s injuries.

“Why did you _do_ that?” Mingi whispered.

“You should’ve left,” Hongjoong said, though his throat felt weak. Just the act of breathing was like being knifed in six different places. “You’re so stupid, Mingi. You have a future.”

“So do you,” Mingi said with a sniffle. “I couldn’t leave you alone.”

Seungri grinned and dropped a six-chambered gun on the table between them. “One bullet, six chambers. You know how, Captain.”

Hongjoong glared at Seungri. Mingi’s shaking grew worse. Yeosang was standing next to Mingi. By his hip, his hand was curled into a fist with his thumb extended. He waved it back and forth. His expression held nothing more than anger, but Hongjoong wondered if there was something else; if Yeosang missed him as much as he missed him; if Yeosang couldn’t bear to watch him die in the same way Hongjoong would still run into fire to keep him safe.

“Ten rounds.” Hongjoong said thickly, watching Mingi. “If the gun doesn’t go off, we both go free.”

“Aye,” Seungri confirmed, then folded his arms behind his back. “Begin.”

Mingi hesitated, then reached for the gun.

Hongjoong slapped his hand away and snatched it up. “And if it kills me, you go free,” Hongjoong said, then spun the barrel and raised the muzzle to his temple.

“Hongjoong, _no_,” Mingi whispered.

Hongjoong smiled. “I’ve already made up my mind.”

Yeosang’s thumb waved. Hongjoong pulled back the hammer.

“Please,” Mingi begged.

Hongjoong adjusted his aim and pulled the trigger. The gun went off. The bullet burned the back of his head. The hands on his shoulders went limp as Hongjoong fell off his chair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **  
TRUST ME  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay on this chapter. I had to toss it at a beta for some fact checking. Anyway, here's the finale! Thanks for coming on this ride with me!

Mingi screamed.

From his position beneath the table, Hongjoong had a perfect view of Seungri’s legs. His ear was ringing from the gunshot, but he could still hear the confused mumbles. Hongjoong took aim and fired again.

Seungri screamed and dropped to his knees.

“Bastard!” he screamed.

Hongjoong stood up. He aimed again. The man holding Mingi fell with a _bang_. Hongjoong gripped his arm and pulled him to his feet.

“Run,” he ordered.

Mingi didn’t argue. He turned and bolted through the crowd. Hongjoong shot three more times – two men dropped to the ground. He raced after Mingi.

Anarchy rose. Pirates who feared Seungri tried to follow Hongjoong, but cowered the moment he raised his gun. There was one bullet left – they were smart enough to know that. The others fled and didn’t dare get in Hongjoong’s way. Despite his betrayal, his name still carried a reputation. He was the pirate who killed without mercy if his crew was threatened.

Another gunshot rang out. Hongjoong felt the bullet through the back of his leg and winced. It forced a limp that pushed him onto his bad thigh. Hongjoong felt the sickening sensation of a muscle tearing and he fell to his knees with a pained cry.

Mingi froze, then turned around. Hongjoong attempted to stand, but his legs collapsed beneath him.

“No, Mingi—_run, _damn it,” Hongjoong begged as the officer began to bundle him in his arms.

“You shoot, I’ll run,” Mingi said. Then he threw Hongjoong over one shoulder and ran.

Hongjoong grimaced. The pain of being carried was enough to make stars wink in front of his eye. He felt every bruised rib, and every fist that had connected with his gut. He groaned in pain and lifted his arm to aim behind them. He shot his final bullet when he saw a raised shotgun. The blood reminded him of Detective Park, and of lost lives.

“Ta last cap!” Seungri shouted. “_Get them!_”

“How many shots in a police magazine?” Hongjoong asked, and retrieved Detective Park’s pistol.

“Fifteen,” Mingi replied.

Hongjoong saw a flash of blonde hair amongst their pursuers. He raised his thumb and waved it. The blonde hair disappeared behind a market stall. The muscular form of Jongho followed close behind him. Hongjoong allowed himself a small smile, knowing Yeosang had someone new at his side. He wasn’t alone.

Hongjoong armed the pistol and fired over Mingi’s shoulder. Men scattered and fell, and Mingi plunged into a narrow, darker tunnel.

“Shit, where’s the speeder?” Mingi asked, breathing heavily.

“Count three,” Hongjoong said. “Make a left. Then a right.”

“How would Officer Jung remember?” Mingi asked.

“If he didn’t, let’s hope we run into him,” Hongjoong said with a grimace.

Mingi’s pace was slowing. The sounds of pursuit had faded into the distance now that the pirates knew he was still armed. He clutched Detective Park’s pistol and whispered a thank you. In death, Detective Park had protected them. He couldn’t be more grateful.

The Gatekeeper was waiting outside of the airlock when Mingi stumbled around the corner. He raised an eyebrow, then cackled. He picked up the radio speaker.

“See, tu crew come now,” he said. Then he pressed a button on the panel. The internal airlock door swung open.

“Tu hide,” Hongjoong said. “Danger back.”

The gatekeeper startled slightly. “Aye. Gomap.” He said. Then he pressed a few more buttons and held up three fingers. “Three minute. Auto open.”

“Gomap,” Hongjoong said.

The gatekeeper ran up the hall and disappeared into a maintenance hatch.

Mingi went inside and closed the airlock. The light turned red, and an alarm signalling the automatic override began to wail from the external door. The speeder’s cockpit opened, and Officer Jung poked his head out.

“Holy _shit_,” he gasped, and helped pull Hongjoong inside. “Hongjoong, I’m so sorry—”

“Shut the fuck up and lock the door,” Hongjoong ordered. “Help me sit down.”

Mingi clambered inside and yanked the door down. “Can you drive?” He asked.

“I’ll manage,” Hongjoong said and strapped himself in. The crash gel pressed along every bruise on his back.

Mingi strapped himself into one of the folding seats in the back. Officer Jung paused long enough to double check he straps holding Detective Park’s body in the seat behind Hongjoong were secure before retreating to his own seat next to Mingi.

The airlock opened before the speeder’s sealing mechanisms had properly completed. An alarm sounded. Hongjoong’s ears popped painfully. The force of the throttle pushed him back into his seat and made him see stars, but he refused to let up. He drove them out of the airlock and away from the Ratway – he drove them away from Seungri and the Blackwings; away from Yeosang, and the painful truth that despite everything, his old partner had protected him.

Their hand signal for ‘danger’ was a thumb upraised to make their fist look like a bomb. Hongjoong had known from the beginning that their little game had been rigged – after all, it was an unwritten rule that Tables couldn’t be played unless all parties witnessed the single bullet being loaded into the gun. Yeosang had known the gun was loaded. Yeosang had warned him of the danger. Hongjoong had returned the favour with a warning of his own so he wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire. And still, Hongjoong had left him behind. A lump formed in his throat. His body throbbed with pain. The sting of Yeosang’s slap lingered on his cheek. He truly deserved it for what he’d done.

He heard the quiet sound of sobbing as Mars emerged rusty red in front of them. Hongjoong was strangely surprised to see the sun. Only four hours had passed since they’d gone in. It felt more like four days. Exhaustion was creeping on him, and his head was throbbing. His vision blurred dangerously. He pressed a hand to his stomach. With his free hand, he set the autopilot and undid his straps.

“One of you needs to drive us home,” Hongjoong said. “I think I’m bleeding.”

“B-Bleeding?” Mingi asked.

Officer Jung was already yanking off his straps. “Let me get the med kit—”

“I’m bleeding _inside_,” Hongjoong emphasized.

“...Fuck,” Officer Jung helped him out of his seat. “Where do I go?”

“Noctis is closest,” Hongjoong said. “But our beacon is disabled, so they probably won’t let us in. Get us back to Marineris. Contact them.”

Officer Jung nodded and sat Hongjoong into the crash chair. He strapped him in.

Mingi looked over at him fearfully. Hongjoong tried to smile. His hands were cold. He winced as Officer Jung pushed the throttle as far as it would go. His ears felt full of cotton, and sparks danced in his eyes – like twinkling stars. He thought of Seonghwa and smiled.

The last thing he heard was the sound of Chief Han’s voice stating they were sending a team out to meet them halfway.

Hongjoong blacked out.

\--

_...ee o evh rst ee eh d e._

Hongjoong’s first memory when he woke was of muffled sounds and the blur of white and white. Something was beeping in a uniform rhythm. It became unsteady he remembered the sounds of death. The muffled sounds he realized were words slowly started to come clear, and Hongjoong groaned. It was too loud – too everything. He just wanted to sink back into that soft bliss of sleep.

_“Hongjoong,”_ a voice echoed directly into his ear.

Hongjoong’s eyes opened. He blinked at the dim lighting. Only a single light was lit in the far corner. If he looked directly at it, it made his eyes ache, so he looked away. At his bedside, a man wearing the deep red tones of the Martian military sat in an uncomfortable looking chair. His head throbbed viciously. He tried to rub his eyes to block out the light, but something sharp pulled at the back of his hand.

“Please, General, I must insist,” a woman was saying.

Her voice grated at his ears. He nearly mumbled a ‘shut up’. His thoughts were sluggish, and his body ached with every heartbeat. He felt like one, massive bruise. In that moment, he couldn’t remember why, and he didn’t want to put too much effort into thinking about it. His head throbbed and he groaned tiredly. A small hand pressed against his forehead.

“I must get the doctor,” a woman said. She was dressed in clean pressed scrubs with a little pawprint on the pocket for design. “General, please refrain from questioning him.”

“I’m afraid I must,” the General said.

“Then it can wait until he has his examination,” the nurse said firmly.

General Eden’s brow twitched. Then, he sighed in resignation, and gestured for the nurse to continue.

The nurse rang for the doctor. While they waited, the nurse checked his vitals and jotted down the numbers onto his chart. She used a penlight to check his eyes. Hongjoong tried not to squeeze his eyes shut. When the doctor arrived, he was much more thorough, and asked him questions that made his head ache – _“What’s your name?”_ _“What do you remember?” “Do you know where you are?” “What day is it?”_ Hongjoong answered all of them as best as he could. By the time he was finished being probed, his throat was dry, his body was aching, and he wanted to just go back to sleep. The examination, and the doctor’s questions, filled in the small gaps in his memory.

The Marineris Police Department had caught up with them just in time. Hongjoong had been rushed into emergency surgery to repair internal hemorrhaging in his stomach and nearly died on the table. He had several fractured ribs and a concussion on top of the gunshot to his leg. The muscle in his thigh had torn where the shrapnel had damaged it. He’d been in a coma for ten days.

By the time the briefing was over, Hongjoong felt dizzy. His head fell back into the pillows and tried not to breathe too deeply. He knew what pain was. He was very familiar with such things – and it wasn’t the first time he’d been shot, either. But it was the first time the pain was so perfectly united from head to foot. He was tempted to immediately jab his finger into the PCA and knock himself out on painkillers. But General Eden was still waiting.

“Do you need anything else?” The nurse asked, as she carefully made sure all of her equipment was back into place.

Hongjoong could hardly find his voice. His throat was dry. “Water...?” He said, though his voice was a sound from another dimension.

The nurse smiled, then carefully offered him a small plastic cup with a straw. “Drink it slowly – small sips, okay?”

Hongjoong nodded and carefully sipped at the liquid. The nurse held his head upright with a gentle hand to keep him from choking. His throat was soothed, but his stomach churned in irritation. He handed her the half-empty up and resisted the urge to gag.

The nurse set what was left of the cup down on a small table within arms reach and looked towards the General.

“The doctor will be close by,” she promised, her expression serious. “Call _immediately_ if anything changes.”

“I will, thank you,” the General said, without looking at her.

The door swung shut with a soft click, and Hongjoong finally allowed himself to turn towards the man at his bedside.

General Eden looked as clean pressed as always. His hair was combed back beneath his hat, and his badges gleamed like gold coins on his lapel. Hongjoong always believed he polished them every morning before putting them on. He was so neat, so tidy, and so flawlessly put together that Hongjoong felt twice as messy lying in a hospital bed.

“I am aware this must be difficult for you, but I must ask you a few questions,” General Eden said.

Hongjoong grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. It was oily, and he found what felt like traces of soap form when someone had tried to sponge bath him while he was out. “Where’s Seonghwa?”

“Your fiancé?” General Eden sat up straighter. “He’s out there, waiting for you to wake up.”

“I want to see him,” Hongjoong tried to shift his weight and sit upright, but the pain in his side forced him back down again. He winced. He swallowed back the helpless tears.

“You’ll see him, as soon as I understand exactly what happened down there,” General Eden promised. “We’ve collected statements from Officer Jung and Officer Song. All we need now is yours.”

Hongjoong’s head throbbed. He tried to think back as far as possible, but he struggled to remember the details. “All I can remember is...Seungri shooting Detective Park...and Mingi and I playing Tables after I got the shit kicked out of me.”

“What’s Tables?” General Eden frowned.

“Uh...Russian Roulette?” Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s...an execution method. They tried to kill me because I told you where the Port Aries locks were. They made Mingi play too because he stuck with me.”

“Why did Detective Park get shot?” General Eden asked.

“He...tried to sell me out,” Hongjoong said. “When Seungri cornered us he...I guess he hoped that if he handed me off, Seungri would let him and Mingi and Officer Jung off. But instead Seungri shot him.”

“Who is Seungri?”

“The Captain of the Blackwings,” Hongjoong fidgeted with the blanket over his legs.

“And after that?”

“I told Mingi and Officer Jung to leave with Detective Park’s body. Mingi didn’t listen, and we got dragged off while Officer Jung ran back to the speeder. Then I got beaten and we played Tables. The gun was rigged; Seungri loaded it with six bullets instead of one. So, we shot our way out.”

“How did you get Detective Park’s gun?” General Eden asked.

Hongjoong had to _really_ think about that one. The memory of Detective Park bleeding out in front of him was hazy. The time between being cornered and passing out in the speeder was a blur.

“I think...he...gave it to me before he died,” Hongjoong said. “Yeah...he put his thumb on it and released it so I could take it. Then he died. It saved our lives.”

General Eden hummed thoughtfully. He tapped his fingertips on the arm of the chair. Just as he opened his mouth to speak again, a voice echoed outside of the door.

“Please, sir—do not—”

The door slammed open, and Hongjoong turned to stare at their interrupter. It was Seonghwa, though it wasn’t the Seonghwa Hongjoong was familiar with. His clothes were wrinkled, and his knotted hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in a week. Dark circles lingered under his eyes, and there was a thinness to him that people only tended to contract after extended periods of stress.

Hongjoong was reminded of being in a coma for ten days, and realized Seonghwa had been awake for every, single one of them. And though it hurt – though he was in so much pain he didn’t want to move – he sat up and held his arm out. Seonghwa looked down at his hand and made a terrible sound – half laugh, half sob. Then he rounded on Eden.

“Why are _you_ the first person to see him when he wakes up?” He demanded.

General Eden stood and tried to make a placating gesture. But Seonghwa wasn’t having it. He threw off the hand of the nurse attempting to remove him from the room and crowded the General towards the wall.

“You realize this is _your_ fault, right?” Seonghwa was almost as tall as Eden, but despite his slightly shorter stature, the General looked stunted beneath his rage. “This is the second time you’ve nearly killed him—the second time _you_ have nearly taken him away from me, and _you_ get to be the first one to see him when he wakes up? No—you, General, are a piece of complete _scum_!”

“Please calm down—” The General tried, but Seonghwa scoffed angrily.

“_No_.” He deadpanned. “I swear on every goddamned star in the sky that I will _not_ let Hongjoong be deployed before he’s fully recovered from this – and hell, if you ask me, I think after what he’s done for you – done for _Mars_ – that he deserves an indefinite discharge. I’ve had enough, General. I’ve had enough of watching him leave before I even wake up—watching him fly away on yet another goddamned ship without knowing whether he’s going to come home alive. _I’ve. Had. Enough!_”

Hongjoong had to nearly leave his bed to grab Seonghwa’s hand. It pulled at something in his gut and his bruised ribs screamed for mercy, but Hongjoong needed him to stop. He held his breath to keep his pained sounds in, but his eyes had grown wet from the strain.

His grip took Seonghwa’s attention away from General Eden and brought it back to him. In an instant, his expression softened. He wiped the tears off Hongjoong’s cheeks as his own ran in slow rivers down his face. He took Hongjoong’s weight in his arms and slowly lowered him onto the bed.

“Please don’t ever do that again,” Seonghwa begged. He pressed his forehead against Hongjoong’s and closed his eyes. “Don’t ever leave without saying goodbye again. _Please_.”

Hongjoong clutched him with his one, free arm and closed his eyes. Seonghwa smelled like sweat and dirt; nothing like his usual self. But it was raw and painful, and even his oily hair felt like a miracle beneath his hand. This was what he’d given up everything for – this was what he was living for. And in truth, he knew Seonghwa was right.

He didn’t want this to ever stop, ever again.

General Eden began to fidget uncomfortably. Hongjoong didn’t care. He had Seonghwa again – Seonghwa had him again. Hongjoong would hold him and never let go, and he didn’t care how many eyes were on them.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Seonghwa whimpered, and a few more tears trickled down his cheeks. Hongjoong wiped those away too.

General Eden cleared his throat. “We have company.”

Hongjoong glanced away, but he didn’t take his hand off Seonghwa’s cheek. A doctor and the nurse he’d seen earlier was standing in wait, looking uncomfortable. Next to them was a security guard who looked like he didn’t quite know why he was there.

“We’ll...leave you for another moment,” the doctor finally said, then beckoned the nurse and guard away from the door.

“Am I allowed to speak now?” General Eden asked. “Or are you going to continue tearing me a new one?”

Seonghwa’s eyes flashed. Hongjoong pressed a finger over his lips and smiled. Seonghwa’s expression softened, and he held Hongjoong’s hand in both of his.

“He’ll tear you three if you give him a chance,” Hongjoong said affectionately. Seonghwa flushed and smiled against his knuckles.

“What I was _getting_ to,” General Eden cleared his throat and sat back in his chair. “Was that your injuries are extensive enough that we’re giving you another twelve months leave from deployment to recover. However, with the concerns that have been brought to me, I am also considering switching your duties to a more..._home based _position, rather than sending you into space.”

“I’d like that, sir,” Hongjoong said.

“Then, you are hereby dismissed from service,” General Eden said. “At ease. I will be in contact.”

“Thank you,” Hongjoong bowed his head.

“Send in the doctor on your way out,” Seonghwa said.

“Yes, yes.” Then, the General was gone.

Hongjoong laughed softly, though it hurt worse than ever. “You are going to get me in so much shit,” he scolded and gently tapped his fingers on Seonghwa’s cheek. “Our family’s behaviour reflects directly onto us, you know.”

“He deserved it,” Seonghwa smirked. “You’re proud of me. Don’t pretend you aren’t.”

“I’m _very _proud of you,” Hongjoong said, then pressed a soft kiss on his lips.

“You need your checkup now,” Seonghwa said. “So, lie still.”

Hongjoong hummed in assent and let go. Seonghwa pulled the blanket up to his chin and kissed his forehead.

“Thank you for coming back to me,” he murmured.

“And now you have me for sixteen months,” Hongjoong said with a smile. “Let’s make it last.”

“We will,” Seonghwa promised.

\--

Over the next few days, Hongjoong received many visitors. Most of them were nurses and doctors bringing him medications and nutrient drinks to sustain him. The drinks tasted like powdered grass overlaid with artificial vanilla, but once he started getting over the nausea, the strength that slowly returned to him felt beyond wonderful.

Two days after he’d woken, he was visited by a woman he didn’t know. She brought him a bouquet of stunted greenhouse carnations and set it up with a small smile on his side table. Then, she introduced herself as Jiyeon Park – the wife of Detective Park. She was looking for a story – one that didn’t reflect what everyone else had told her; that her husband had died in an act of betrayal. Hongjoong told her the truth – that Detective Park had given him over to the enemy, but that he believed he’d done it with the intent to protect the others. The fact that Hongjoong was the only one who knew about the gun he’d left behind helped her more than any reassuring words could. She thanked him. Hongjoong apologized for her loss. He didn’t see her after that, but her flowers lingered like a colourful beacon beside him. They comforted him when he was alone with nothing but a featureless white ceiling to stare at.

It was Mingi and Seonghwa who visited the most, sometimes at the same time, but most of the time, they came separately. Seonghwa had gone home to shower, so he once again smelled clean and comforting. He brought Hongjoong his hand terminal so he could play games and read in his hospital bed when nobody was around. He refreshed the water in his flowers, and brought him new ones when they began to wilt. Though Hongjoong begged, Seonghwa refused to sneak him snacks, insisting he needed to let his stomach recover a little more. Seonghwa always stayed for most of the day, and only left for long periods when he began taking shifts after his emergency leave came to an end.

When Seonghwa couldn’t come, it was Mingi’s visits that made his day brighter. He first visited a day after Hongjoong had woken. He brought a card, a small bag of espresso coffee from Panchino’s, and wore a fidgety, nervous smile that dissolved into tears barely a second later.

“I’m so glad you’re awake,” Mingi sobbed. “I...was really scared for awhile. I’m really sorry I didn’t listen to you.”

“Don’t,” Hongjoong laughed a little and shook his head. He ran a hand up and down Mingi’s arm. “Now that it’s over I’m...grateful. Thank you for having my back. I...wouldn’t have gotten out of there if it wasn’t for you.”

Mingi smiled wetly, then hesitated. “Can I hug you, or would it...hurt?”

“Hug me gently,” Hongjoong laughed, and the taller man pulled him into a hug soft enough that he barely felt it. Tears wet the shoulder of his hospital gown, and he ruffled Mingi’s messy mop of dark brown hair.

“I took a medical leave,” Mingi said when he sat down in the bedside chair. He wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands. “I wasn’t physically hurt, but...I put enough of a case to a therapist that they gave me a note for a month off, with worker’s compensation. I can’t take much more than that. I’ve got bills, you know? But I...can’t really look at a gun anymore. I might have to transfer to desk work. Officer Jung is still on patrol duties. I don’t know how he gets himself out of bed in the morning.”

“How do _you_ get yourself out of bed in the morning?” Hongjoong asked.

Mingi laughed and wiped his cheeks again. “I contacted Yunho. He accepted the transfer. He’s bought the tickets. He’s coming on the next shuttle.”

Hongjoong’s heart leapt. “Good...That’s really good.”

“Yeah,” Mingi smiled behind his hand. “It leaves in a week. He promised to send me a message just before he boards. His brother’s coming too. I just hope I have enough space to host them both until they find their own place.”

“You’ll manage,” Hongjoong said with certainty. “And if there’s trouble, just contact me.”

“Nine months,” Mingi said breathily. “Can you imagine being on a starship for _nine months_?”

“You forget that I don’t have to,” Hongjoong chortled.

“Oh, right,” Mingi flushed and grinned towards the floor. “I’m just...I’m really excited.”

Hongjoong smiled affectionately and gently ruffled Mingi’s hair. It was cute, and pure. Hongjoong knew the time it would take for Yunho to arrive on the shuttle would be insanely hard and emotionally charged, but he knew it would be worth it.

“My offer does stand, you know,” Hongjoong said with a smile. “Once I’ve recovered enough, I’ll take you up in the Nautilus if you want.”

“I’d love that...I’d _really_ love that,” Mingi said.

Hongjoong spent another few days in the hospital before he was discharged with stiff orders to not eat anything more solid than mashed potatoes for at least another week, and to keep every meal small. He was given a pair of crutches and prescribed physiotherapy for his torn leg. Hongjoong quickly tired of the food precautions, but Seonghwa followed them to a T without mercy. He helped him wash when his muscles ached too much to move, and made sure he was taking his medications correctly. Hongjoong groaned and complained when Seonghwa handed him his pain medications, but he always made sure to thank Seonghwa with a kiss every night before bed.

Mingi called up to their apartment while Seonghwa was making dinner, and tearfully showed Hongjoong the video of Yunho boarding the shuttle. A voice coming from outside of the screen was shouting in excitement, and Yunho shushed him.

“How am I going to wait nine months?” Mingi laughed when the recording ended.

“You’ll manage,” Seonghwa said, handing Mingi a cup of tea. “I waited sixteen, once.”

“You were _counting_?” Hongjoong stared at him slack jawed. “When did I make you wait _sixteen months_?”

“It was after I confessed to you,” Seonghwa said, sitting down next to him. “And you confessed to me. Then, three days later you jumped on your ship and flew away. Sixteen months later...”

“I...um...” Hongjoong didn’t have an excuse. At least not one he wanted to remember right away. He knew he’d felt painfully conflicted – like his chest was being torn in two. On one hand, he had his crew and the life he’d created for himself. On the other, he had Seonghwa who he loved far too much to drag him into his chaotic hell of a lifestyle. He’d tried to stay away, but he wasn’t certain of how long he’d avoided Mars. In space, time stopped. Days blurred together like minutes. All he knew was that one day, he’d broken, and gave his crew the longest pitstop in ages. They hadn’t complained until they grew bored of surface life and started asking him to fly again.

That was when Hongjoong had realized he never wanted to leave Mars again. He started digging himself an out, and told his crew to find a new captain.

“It’s okay,” Seonghwa said, blowing on his mug. “You came back. That’s what matters.”

Hongjoong laid a head on his shoulder. He eyed the tea in Seonghwa’s hands. “Is tea on my list of forbidden foods, or can I have a sip?”

“When it’s cool, you can have it,” Seonghwa promised.

Hongjoong smiled and kissed his cheek.

“I’ve...actually been meaning to ask,” Mingi said hesitantly. He was staring down into his tea in the same way he had stared into his coffee the first day Hongjoong had met him. “When I said Earth was better than Mars, and you said it wasn’t, what did...what did you mean by that?”

Hongjoong sat up again. He ran a hand through his hair. “Earth...is a great place if you have money. But that’s about it.”

Seonghwa glanced over at him. Mingi frowned and tilted his head.

“Isn’t that true for everywhere?” He asked. “I mean...they even say poverty doesn’t exist on Earth; everyone has a job.”

“Everyone has a job,” Hongjoong confirmed. “But that doesn’t mean everyone’s getting paid for it.”

“...What...?”

Hongjoong sighed. His head fell back against the couch. Then he looked over at Seonghwa. “Have I ever told you where I was born?”

Seonghwa shook his head. “I mean...I know you’re not Martian.”

“I was born on Earth,” Hongjoong said. “My parents were middle-class. They weren’t rich, but they got by. My mom died in a speeder accident when I was barely old enough to remember it. My dad drank us into debt. The collectors came for our taxes, and when he couldn’t pay, they took our house and sent him to the Sheds. I was six, so I was sent to the orphanage on Luna. You’re supposed to stay there until you’re either adopted, or turn eighteen, then they send you back down to Earth to live in the Sheds.

“On paper, it sounds great,” Hongjoong went on. “They call it the Equal Opportunity Act. For those living in poverty, they offer food, shelter and employment, but all they do is put four people into a tiny room with bunk beds, give them three meal tickets a day, and send them to do manual labour. Garbage pickup; sewer cleaners; street sweepers...they work you to death. The UN calls it Funded Housing. Earthers call it the Sheds.

“I couldn’t stick around out of hope that someone would adopt me. I was thirteen – and my best friend Yeosang was eleven. We were kids, you know? And Yeosang and I loved starships...so we snuck into a hangar, like we always did, but that one had Captain Maddox’s ship in it. He took us in when he realized we’d snuck past his security systems. He saw promise in us, and it gave us an out. You can ask a hundred pirates where they’re from, and they’ll all tell you the same story. Most pirates are from Earth. They chose freedom over the Sheds, just like I did.”

Mingi grimaced. He stared into his tea. His hands trembled. “I had no idea...Yunho...Yunho occasionally mentioned finances were becoming a problem, but...I...I just...I really thought...”

“You couldn’t have known,” Hongjoong shook his head.

“I always thought Mars could be better with a system like that...” Mingi groaned. “God, I am so stupid...”

“Mars just has a housing issue,” Hongjoong grimaced. “At the very least it fixes itself for a few generations after a new dome city opens up.”

“No kidding,” Mingi sighed.

Seonghwa gently took Hongjoong’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Hongjoong smiled at him and laid his head back down on his shoulder.

“I guessed you might be from Earth,” he said quietly. “But I wasn’t sure.”

“You never asked,” Hongjoong said with a tiny smile.

“I didn’t want to know,” Seonghwa smiled sadly. “I was worried you might’ve been born a pirate, too.”

“Pirate’s aren’t born. They’re _made_,” Hongjoong sighed. “Everyone chooses it for a different reason, but we all go in a greenie. Some don’t make it very long. The rest manage roughly ten years before the hazards catch them.”

“I’m glad you were able to give it up,” Seonghwa sighed. He pressed his cup of tea into Hongjoong’s hand and pulled him close to himself.

“Me too,” Hongjoong said, then carefully snuck a sip of the tea. It was still warm, and Seonghwa huffed at him.

“Don’t burn your stomach,” he said.

“With you here? How could I possibly cause myself further injury?” Hongjoong kissed the top of his head and smiled.

“Somehow, I think you’d find a way,” Seonghwa grinned.

Mingi made a strange noise and cringed into the couch. “You two are sickening,” he said, his cheeks flushed pink. “When’s the wedding?”

“I mean, I _do_ have sixteen months off now,” Hongjoong looked over to Seonghwa with a smile. “Should we just start planning?”

Seonghwa flushed. “Let’s fix you up properly first, _then_ we can talk about it.”

“White roses?” Hongjoong pressed. “Or red?”

“I already know what flowers I want,” Seonghwa dismissed. “No, I’m not going to tell you.”

Hongjoong pouted. Seonghwa covered his face with a hand.

“I will take away the tea,” he threatened.

“That is a low blow, even for you,” Hongjoong sighed, but relented. He took another sip of the tea.

Mingi laughed, then took another long gulp of his tea. “I’m going to finish this, then I’ll head out,” he said.

“Nonsense,” Seonghwa interrupted. “I’m making dinner soon. You should stay.”

“I don’t want to intrude,” Mingi protested.

“You won’t,” Seonghwa said.

“Listen to him, or he’ll complain to me for the next four hours about how you didn’t stay for dinner,” Hongjoong snickered.

“And that’s enough tea for you,” Seonghwa said and gently pulled the cup away.

“Seonghwa—”

“Shh,” Seonghwa pecked his lips and stood up.

Mingi laughed again. As Seonghwa retreated to the kitchen, Mingi leaned towards him.

“I see why you like him so much,” he said.

Hongjoong rolled his eyes, then turned around enough to see where hiss fiancé had gone. “He’s the best treasure I’ve ever discovered,” he said.

Seonghwa paused, then turned around. “Flattery won’t get your tea back,” he said, but his cheeks were flushed.

And that was enough for Hongjoong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to my dear Shan the nursing student for the help with the hospital scenes. Bless you <3
> 
> And thanks to all of you for being here! Part 4 will be in the works as soon as I get the timeline settled down ^^
> 
> Thanks so much for reading <3
> 
> Edit; 2020/08/15  
Hongjoong and Yeosang's age changed in Hongjoong's story.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any concerns about my content, questions, or even just want to say hello, feel free to come chill with me on Twitter @thatstarlitsky. I occasionally post random updates and polls for future stories, but I mostly spam ATEEZ.
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


End file.
